Bring Her To Me
by mygyps17
Summary: This is the fifth installment of the "When Clark Comes Back" series; but most of the series is rated M. If you're not allowed to read M rated fics email me and I'll send you a T rated version of the stories so you can read it from the beginning;
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So here it is. I really think this is the last one guys. Well I hope it is anyway; but before you start reading, I'd like to warn you that this story is full of OCs. And to make it worse, the chapters are going to alternate between Chloe and her daughter's POVs. So if OCs are not for you, I'm warning you in advanced;)

**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Smallville; but just in case you don't, I don't own Smallville or its characters.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

"Jonathan Gabriel and Moira Elizabeth Kent," I yell at the top of my lungs.

I won't deny that I get a slightly perverse thrill out of yelling my children's names like that. It's almost like yelling at my parents, whose names _were_ Moira and Gabriel; but right now, my seven year olds are in trouble. And they know it.

They're late.

They're supposed to be in by six so they can get ready for dinner, and it's now five minutes passed the hour.

"Yes Mom?"

"Yes Mama?"

I try to hold in my smile as my children appear in front of me. Jonathan has decided he's too old to call me any two syllable names that mean mom; and Moira, I don't think she'll ever stop.

"Where have you two been?"

I turn a little to wash my hands in the kitchen sink; but keep an eye on them. As I obviously should've; I can see them both exchange nervous glances at each other and it makes me nervous.

And mad.

I know what their silence means.

Miami.

I'm going to absolutely kill them. Not my children; their godfathers.

What was I _thinking_ when I let Arthur Curry and Bart Allen be the godfathers of my children? Why didn't I stick with Oliver, my original and saner choice?

I could have ignored Bart's huge hissy fit.

I didn't _have_ to listen to him whine about how unfair it would be to make Oliver my children's godfather. I didn't have to listen to his reasoning about Oliver already being their "uncle" so to speak; even though he was _just_ dating my cousin at the time.

But then_, _he kept whining about how he was never going to have any kids of his own because _I_ was the _only_ one for him; and since I was already taken…

So, I caved. I wanted to believe that he was just joking; but I _did _pick up on a serious note or two, and it made me feel bad, so…I did it. I agreed to let him be the godfather of my children. And surprisingly, Clark agreed as well. He said, "It might teach him how to be responsible."

Bart Allen.

Responsible.

Yeah; right.

But it didn't stop there. A.C. found out, and he chewed me out thoroughly because he said it wasn't fair. He pointed out the fact that there were _two_ children, and he didn't think Bart should get to have _both_ of them. I rolled my eyes at him. They were acting as if my children were free puppies to take home; not human beings who already had parents to take care of them.

I called Bart over. He arrived within seconds; then I broke the news to him. I told him he had to share with A.C.

A.C. grinned victoriously and chose Moira to be his goddaughter immediately. It's the red hair; The Little Mermaid was one of his favorites. Sometimes he even calls her Ariel.

Bart became Jonathan's godfather by default; not that he cared. He was just happy to have one of my kids as he explained it; and I ignored the innuendo. He was always saying something inappropriate to me; and he didn't care if Clark was around or not.

He did surprise me though. He did become a little more responsible once he became a godfather; but he is Bart Allen after all; and as soon as my children learned how to run, and by run, I mean _run_, he took them to Miami, to Canada, to Mexico, both the old and the new. He took them _everywhere_; but Miami is their favorite place to go. That's were "Uncle A.C." lives.

They've been there so many times, they can probably get there with their eyes closed.

"If you two went off to Miami again I swear…" I trail off

'_I'm going to kill your godfathers,' _I finish as a thought rather than under my breath. They'd have heard it otherwise; and then they would've panicked.

They love their godfathers.

"It's my fault Mama," Moira pipes up quietly. "I was gonna go by myself; but Johnny didn't want me to get hurt."

I nod my head in understanding and tell Jonathan to go upstairs so that he can wash up for dinner. He's not the one in trouble. He was just protecting his sister. I'm always telling him to watch over her. He can protect her so much better than I can; and sometimes, he can protect her better than Clark can.

"Am I in a lot of trouble Mama?" my daughter asks solemnly.

I let out a deep sigh. She's changed a lot. She used to be this colossal, blindingly, bright ray of sunshine. Not like a hyper ball of energy, just this happy little girl who smiled so big, she lit up any room she entered.

She used to smile at _everything _and everyone; oh, and laugh. God, she used to laugh at the silliest things.

Not now. Not anymore. She's so quiet; and secretive, and wary, and guarded; and I know why. But I can't seem to help; no matter how hard I try.

Her friend died six months ago. A sweet little girl by the name of Dawn.

It was an accident; a hit and run.

But Moira blames herself; she says that she should've been there.

She says that she could've saved her.

She's so much like her father.

"Lizzy, I don't want you running off without telling Mommy or Daddy where you're going first. You _know _that," I reprimand; but my heart's not in it. How can I possibly yell at her when she's like this?

"I'm sorry Mama; but look who I found!" She grins excitedly.

I watch the way her eyes light up and I turn toward her, giving her my full attention and a grin of my own. It's been so long since she's smiled like that.

But then she turns around; making a brief beckoning motion with her hand, and I frown slightly. I had been so entranced with her smile that I forgot about what she just said.

'Look who I found.'

Who could she have possibly…?

I gasp as _she _steps into the kitchen.

Lana Lang.

This is a dream. No, this is a nightmare. I had the first one fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years ago.

I should have realized this was a dream immediately. Jonathan and Moira are fifteen years old; not seven. And I have other children; three other children. Casey, Andrew, Noel.

So this isn't real. It's just a dream.

A very bad dream.

A nightmare; but it doesn't matter to me. I still grab my seven year old daughter's hand and pull her to me.

God, I haven't dreamed this in nearly eight years but I still remember what's coming next.

"You stay away from us," I tell "Lana".

In my nightmares, she turns into Lex, a nightmare in himself, and zips off; taking my child with her…him…it.

"Mama, Lana's my friend," Moira tells me with a frown.

She always tells me that.

I ignore her and pull her closer to me.

Lana's not anybody's friend. Lana's dead.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

'_Wake up Chloe….come on…Chloe wake up! Please!'_

"Chloe."

I open my eyes to see Lana smiling at me sadly.

"I'm not dead, I'm real," she tells me.

_She_ always tells me that too.

"Please don't take her," I beg.

I can't help it. I know this is a dream; but I just can't help it.

I know she's going to.

"I know I may have given birth to her; but Moira is your daughter. I'm not trying to take that from you," she answers while taking a step toward me and reaching a hand out to touch Moira's hair.

"Stay away!" I yell in alarm.

I know what's coming next. It's what always comes next. She tells me to ask her what's going on; she tells me to question her alleged death further; she tells me that I should be wondering about Charlie.

But I _already_ did that!

Fifteen years ago, I did all of that!

At my insistence, Clark checked Lana's grave for me. She's was in there. Charlie, or whatever his real name is, however; was cremated.

I'm not missing anything.

They're dead.

"Mama, Lana's my friend!" my daughter repeats.

I turn her around to face me, holding her firmly by the shoulders and locking my eyes with hers.

"Lana's dead," I tell her. "I need you to run away, as far and as fast as you can. Okay baby?"

"No, she's my friend," Moira pouts back.

I don't have the time to argue with her; it's almost time.

I look up at Lana.

"You're dead!" I shout at her.

If I say it enough times, maybe I'll wake up before it happens; before she takes her.

Lana smiles at me. It's not a friendly smile and I hold my squirming daughter closer to me.

I already knew it was coming; but I still cringe when Lana turns into the devil himself, Lex Luthor.

"Oh god," I whimper before closing my eyes tightly.

Here it comes.

'_Wake up Chloe, wake up please. Please, please wake up. This isn't real. Lex is still in the hospital. He's still in a coma. This isn't real._

This isn't real.

It's not; but I still tighten my grip on my daughter when Lex tells me that my husband made a deal with the devil; and I still scream out a horrified "NO!" when he tells me he's come to collect; and I can still feel my heart being ripped from my chest when he snatches my baby out of my arms; and I still wake up abruptly, gasping for breath with tears and sweat drenching my body.

"Shh Chloe, it was just a bad dream," my husband whispers.

He's holding me, soothing me; telling me over and over again that it was just a nightmare; but it doesn't help. Nothing will make me feel better until I see her for myself.

"Bring her to me," I choke out.

Clark sighs. He knows exactly who I'm talking about. We have three 'hers'; three beautiful, precious 'hers;' but of all my children there's that I've ever dreamed of being taken away from me.

Moira.

"Chloe, Lizzy's fine. It was just a dream," Clark tries to reason with me.

It just doesn't work.

I _need _to see her.

"Clark, please," I plead softly. "Just bring her to me. _Please_."

Clark sighs deeply before getting up out of bed. I can understand his hesitation. Moira hasn't slept in our bed in nearly five years. It was pretty hard to wean her off of it; but he really shouldn't fear any kind of relapse. She's fifteen years old now. If anything, she'll be embarrassed when morning comes.

About a minute later, Clark walks back into our room; and he has her. Literally. He's carrying her because she's still asleep. I smile. She's got a little of Lois in her. My daughter can sleep through anything.

He lays her down beside me gently, and I suddenly feel the need to kill my husband.

There are tears on her face; and they haven't dried yet. They're fresh.

"I thought you said she was fine!" I hiss.

"She _is _fine," he answers calmly. "She just had a bad dream…just like you; and you're fine," he answers.

I don't respond to that. I _did_ tell him that I'm fine.

"Did she call for me?" I ask instead.

"Chloe,"-

"Yes or no Clark. Did she call for me?"

"Yes hone, she called for you; but Noley calls for you too sometimes; and I've heard the others call for you a few times as well. They're fine. _All_ of them are fine."

I sigh. He's probably right.

No, he _is _right.

I close my eyes when he leans over our daughter to kiss my cheek.

"Happy?" he whispers.

I shake my head and tell him no.

He frowns a little before sighing, and I let my eyes dip down to his lips before meeting his eyes.

Then he smiles at me; a genuine smile of relief and understanding as he leans in and kisses my lips softly.

"Happy now?"

"Yes," I whisper honestly.

He kisses me once more, and I tell him that I love him.

"I love you too," he tells me before motioning for me to go back to sleep and lying downto do the same.

I lie down but I don't go to sleep.

I want to; but I don't think I can.

I've got so many questions. Questions about Lana, Charlie, the time Clark spent in the phantom zone, and so many other little things.

I'm still missing something. Something important. I have to be.

Why else does Lana keep visiting me? Why else does Lex keep telling me that my husband made a deal with the Devil; and that he's come to collect? And why does he keep taking my daughter? I've got five children. Five.

Why does he keep taking Moira?

"Mama," Moira whimpers quietly; and the sound of her voice pulls me out of my deep thoughts immediately.

"Shhh," I whisper before wrapping an arm around her.

Immediately, she buries her face into my chest and wraps her arm around my waist.

I chuckle softly before kissing her forehead and closing my eyes.

It's almost as if she's seven years old again.


	2. Chapter 2

**The fallen sky: **Lol. I meant what I said. I may love Chloe; but her getting her ass kicked is canon. I figure the apple doesn't fall from the tree. And with a title as ominous as "Bring Her To Me" you can just expect things to go bad for the poor girl. But don't worry; I tend to favor happy endings…sometimes.

The thing about the Kent kids is that it's going to be hard. There are so many of them, and I don't want to just throw them out there because it'll be hard to remember who is who and what each who looks like; but I'm going to try my best ease them in as naturally as I can. God, I hope I pull it off; but I'm really nervous that I might not be able to. Keep your fingers crossed that I'm able to!;)

**Lilbit4: **lol. Wrong story honey.

**Shonnia22: **Thank you! Lol, of course someone's claimed the other three.

**Jeremy Shane, Anonymous, and Lois Joanne Lane: **Thanks!

**Dizzy78: **Lol. You always ask questions that I can't answer; but thank you for reading this. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Madlenita: **Thank you! And I'm sure I can think up a few more Chlark stories;)

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

"Mom said wake up."

I open my eyes immediately; but not because my sister is talking to me.

She hit me.

Hard.

It hurt.

I've got two sisters; but I automatically know it was Casey.

She's the only one who does that.

She got it from Auntie Lois.

I wish she'd give it back.

"Will you stop that," I mutter before sitting up.

"Mom made John do your chores while you slept; but he got to use his _gifts_," she scowls at me instead. That's because the answer is no. She's not going to stop. I don't even know why I ask her anymore; I just do. Just in case.

"Dad left already, didn't he?" I ask. I must've slept in if our mother made Johnny do my chores for me. I don't know why my parents didn't just wake me earlier. I would've liked to tell my father goodbye before he went off to work.

Casey doesn't answer my question; she just keeps scowling at me.

And I know why.

We're not allowed to use our abilities to do our chores. She has the right to scowl; but I ignore her. And I don't even ignore her because she scowls at me so often that I'm used to it. I ignore her because I just realized that I'm not in my room.

I'm in my parents' room; in their bed.

Why am I in my parents' bed?

"She was asking for you last night, so Dad came and got you," Casey answers my nonverbally asked question.

I sigh.

I had "the dream" again last night, and I'm sure I cried. I always cry. But it usually only happens about once or twice a month.

Usually.

But I've been having it every night for the past week.

I've been _crying_ in my sleep every night for the past week.

Dad must've heard me…again; and while he usually doesn't tell on me, he must've done so this time; and my mother must've told him to come and get me out of pity.

I'm _fifteen_ years old; and yet I'm back in Mommy and Daddy's bed.

God this is embarrassing.

I stand up and stretch a little.

"Put some shorts on," Casey mutters before walking past me and out the door.

I ignore her.

She tells me that every morning; and every night I go to bed in just a t-shirt. And why shouldn't I? I'm at home. I should be allowed to be comfortable. And besides, it's one of the _very _few things I have in common with my mother. It's silly, but I hold onto things like that for as long as possible.

"Lizzy! Get down here and make it fast, young Lady! You are _not_ going to be late for the first day of School!"

I cringe a little at my mother's raised voice before dressing and brushing my teeth as fast as I possibly can.

Literally.

When I get downstairs, I have to duck.

Literally.

My brother, Andrew, just threw some breakfast my cousin's way.

I pause in the middle of the kitchen and frown. Yes, I'm used to the 'school morning chaos'; the projectile food and people, lots of people, rushing around to get this and that; but I'm not used to seeing Samuel Queen here while it happens.

"Sammy, aren't you supposed to be in Metropolis? It's the first day of school," I tell him. I have to yell a bit over the noise; but I know he heard me because he's glaring at me. I'm not supposed to call him Sammy anymore. It's Sam now; but I keep forgetting.

"Sorry Sam," I apologize immediately.

"It's okay Red," he grins brightly at me; immediately forgetting my mishap.

I hurry from him before he can ruffle my hair. He's Andrew's age; which means he's younger than me by a year, but I don't think he knows that. He treats me like he's at least five years my senior; and I let him. I can't help it. He's _so_ much like Auntie Lois that it just kinda comes natural.

Now, I love my auntie, I do; but she's always teasing me, and picking on me, and giving me these _looks_. Sometimes, I don't think she likes me very much; but my mom says not to worry about her. She says that I'm so much like my father that my auntie just can't help herself.

I suppose it's true. She doesn't seem to like my father very much either.

"I'm going to school with you," Sammy answers while sitting down at the table and starting on his breakfast. It's a pop tart. I couldn't tell before; but now that it's no longer airborne, I can see it just fine.

"Didn't your parents tell you? As of today I'm officially a student at Smallville High," he finishes with a wink.

I ignore him.

He's being sarcastic; and not even on purpose. It's just second nature to him.

Sammy goes to a private school in Metropolis. There's no way my auntie and uncle would let him go to a school like Smallville High. More than likely, today isn't the first day of school for _his_ school. Private schools seem to have a different schedule from public ones.

"Honestly Lizzy, I just don't get how you can be as fast as lightening and as slow as molasses all at the same time," my mom says while sitting me down and shoving a bowl of cereal into my hands.

I don't take offense by her nearly harsh treatment. She's in a rush. She's got to get five kids to two different schools on time. It would've been three but Casey didn't want to be left behind in elementary. Not even for a year; so she begged my parents to let her skip a grade so that she could be with Andrew. My mom said no at first; but then she begged dad and told him that it wasn't fair that Johnny and I got to be together all the time. My dad could've told her that it was because Johnny and I are twins; but he just talked to my mother about it and the following year Casey was attending Smallville Middle with us.

"Andrew! Have you seen the brush?"

"It's in your hand Auntie," Sammy answers.

"Thank you Sammy," my mom answers distractedly.

She doesn't sound embarrassed by what just happened.

She's too busy to be embarrassed.

I bend my head backwards and look up at my mother; she immediately pushes my head forward and begins to unravel one of my braids. She's stopped asking me how I want to wear it years ago. I always wear my hair in two braids. Always.

"How's this Mom?"

I look up from my cereal bowl just enough to see my youngest sister standing in front of me, awaiting our mother's approval.

Our parents have agreed to let her dress herself for school this year and it shows.

She's wearing the furriest pair of brown boots; yellow tights, a purple knee length skirt with red polka dots, a white t-shirt with the care bears and a rainbow on it, which she drew herself by the way; pink, green, and orange plastic bracelets, and a blue baseball cap.

"Noley," my mom sighs. "You _know _you can't wear the baseball cap."

"_Mooom_,"-

"Those are the rules sweetie. Oh, and get rid of the ringpop."

"It's jewelry. You said I can wear any kind of jewelry I want."

"Not the kind that's ninety percent sugar. Get rid of it. Now."

"Fine, I will."

"Noel London Kent, if you eat that thing right now, I swear…" she trails off.

She doesn't have to finish anyway. Once her first, middle, and last names are used, Noley pretty much understands that our mom is serious.

"Mom, you're seriously going to let her go to school like that?" Casey asks once she finally gets a good look at Noley.

"I match! Right mom?"

My mom doesn't answer. She can't. I can feel both of her hands in my hair, working on one of my braids; and I instantly realize she has a hair tie in her mouth.

"Of course you match Noley. You're wearing all the same colors that are in the rainbow, just like the one on your shirt," I answer for my mother.

"You're right," my sister grins at me before sticking her tongue out at Casey; it's clearly a nonverbal 'in your face.'

"What about your shoes? There's no brown anywhere in your shirt," Casey retorts.

I nearly roll my eyes; but instead I take another bite of my cereal.

Noley _just _turned eight, Casey's nearly fourteen years old. Why is there even an argument?

I look around for my brothers; hoping one of them can help out as I really don't like to get into it with Casey. She's not above hitting below the belt.

"Lizzy, what about my shoes?" Noley whispers.

I glance around for my brothers again; but they're not in here. They must've gone outside to their room to finish packing their school stuff. They're lucky they can do that. Dad fixed up the loft in the barn so that it's no longer a loft. It's their bedroom.

I wish my room was outside of the house as well; that I didn't have to share with both my sisters; but I doubt my parents would even _think_ about it.

I glance over at my cousin. I don't know what for though. Sammy's still sitting across from me; but he's not going to intervene. He likes it when my sisters argue; probably because he's not allowed to argue with his brother. Not that there's much to argue about anyway. Michael just turned three.

"Lizzy?" My sister frowns at me when I don't answer.

"Your hair," I tell her. "Your boots match your hair."

"Yeah _Casey_,my shoes are brown like my hair," Noley sneers at her after shooting a grin at me. I smile back before taking another bite of my breakfast.

"Mom!" Casey turns her attention back onto our mother after getting nowhere with Noley.

I keep my mouth shut this time, no longer needing to run interference between my sisters. I can tell my mom's wrapping the hair tie around the end of my braid.

Her mouth is no longer full.

She can speak now.

"Casey, honey, Noley's outfit isn't hurting you, is it?"

"No, but It's embarrassing!"

"How? You're going to Smallville High. She's going to Smallville elementary," my mom points out while starting on my other braid.

"Exactly! This is _Smallville. _Everyone knows The Kents. Everyone knows _she's _one of them. Everyone knows _I'm_ one of them. I can't let her wear that! I'll never be able to live it down!"

"I kinda like it," I butt in.

"Yeah well no one asked _you_. Everyone thinks you're adopted anyway; and if it weren't for your abilities, I'd think you were adopted too," she spits back at me.

Like I said, below the belt. And true at the same time. I don't look like a Kent. I'm the only one in my family with red hair. Casey, Andrew, and my mom are blondes. Dad, Johnny, and Noley are brunettes. I'm also the only one with brown eyes. Everyone else has green eyes. Everyone. Even Sammy and Michael.

"Casey," Our mom starts, but before she can get any further my brothers walk balk in, and the school morning chaos resumes.

I'm glad.

Every time Casey points out the fact that I don't look like a Kent while Sammy's around he tells me that I fit in just fine; that I must've gotten my red hair from my grandmother and my brown eyes from his dad.

It may sound like he's being nice; but he's not. Everyone knows Grandma Martha adopted Dad; and Uncle Oliver isn't related to me by blood. There's no way I could have inherited anything from either of them; genetically anyway.

"I just don't see why I have to pay for your accident," Casey mutters back to my mother; but with the boys back inside, my mom doesn't hear her.

I heard her though; and judging by Noley's wide eyes, she heard her too.

"Don't worry Noley," I decide to do damage control before my sisters really start to go at it. "Kristin's an accident too. We all are."

It's true.

Me and Johnny are red K accidents; it took my mom and Dad two years and two children to figure out that birth control and rubbers don't work because Dad's got super…soldiers; and Noley, well, she was a _real_ accident. Our parents weren't paying attention to 'the cycle' during their Christmas vacation in London nine years ago; hence the name Noel London.

I dip my spoon into my bowl, attempting to take another bite of my cereal; but the bowl's not in my hands anymore.

Casey's taken it away from me, and I watch her practically slam it down onto the table.

"Call me Kristin one more time and I _will_ slip kryptonite into your lucky charms, got it?" she threatens.

I'm about to tell her that I got it; I mean, I kinda asked for it. I know better than to call her-

"Kristin Clark!"

Everyone goes quiet.

Everyone.

We hear a lot of "Casey Kents"; but we never _ever_ hear Kristin Clark, no matter how mad our mother gets at Casey.

She hates that name.

As the story goes, my mother wanted to name my sister Casey, Dad favored Kristin. They argued about it; not the screaming kind of arguing because they never do that; they just kinda disagreed.

For months.

Eventually, Auntie Lois got tired of it and she yelled at them, saying "why don't you just name the kid Kristin Clark and call her by her initials. Then both of you losers win."

They did it for a while; but K.C. just kinda morphed into Casey over the years. So, my mom ended up winning after all.

We've all heard the story so many times we could tell it backwards while skipping every other word.

I keep my eyes on my cereal bowl while my mother yells at my sister for threatening me with kryptonite. I want to tell her that it's no big deal; but I don't say anything.

Not until I see Casey's eyes begin to water. I doubt she'll actually cry; she never does, but the fact that she's actually close to doing so right now is enough to make me feel bad. I_ did_ start this after all.

I bend my head backwards and look up at my mother. The sight of her nearly makes me change my mind altogether. I've never seen her _this_ angry before. She's practically red all over, and she's literally shaking with fury.

"Mama, it's okay," I tell her before I completely lose all of my nerve; but I don't think she's heard me.

She's still yelling.

I send a pleading look Johnny's way. If anyone can get our mother to calm down, it's my twin brother; but he's too busy watching her with his mouth hanging open to see me.

I'll have to do this on my own.

I stand up, getting in between my mom and my sister; but before I can say anything, my father is standing in front of me.

It's almost a good thing.

Dad is even better than Johnny at calming my mom down; but the fact that he's here instead of at The Daily Planet is not so good. He only leaves his job for emergencies. "Superman" emergencies. This is _not_ a superman emergency; but he's here anyway.

So this is bad.

I turn around, heading toward the bathroom. I don't particularly have to go; but I'd rather be anywhere than down here.

"Stay right there," my dad says calmly.

My shoulders drop. I should've known he wouldn't let me escape.

"What's going on in here," he asks.

He's looking at me, no one else. He knows this is all my fault.

I sigh heavily before pleading guilty.

"It's my fault dad. I called Casey Kristin. I'm sorry," I confess.

But before my father can say anything to me, my mom tells him about what Casey said about putting kryptonite in my lucky charms.

"Casey," my dad gasps disbelievingly.

I can't say that I'm surprised by it. Casey threatens me a lot; but she's never done it in front of our parents before. She knows better. She knows that my mother is a bit overprotective when it comes to me and_ any_ form of kryptonite. I'm the only one in this family besides my father who gets hurt by it. So whenever I go somewhere without her, she always tells my brothers and sisters to watch me. Even Noley; she's had to throw a few green and blue rocks away for me. She likes it; it makes her feel good to be able to protect her big sister.

For Casey however, she's made it perfectly clear that I'm a burden to her; that she doesn't appreciate babysitting someone who's older than her.

I can understand that. I can understand that it's not fair for her. I'm the oldest. I should be protecting her; not the other way around.

"Daddy, it was just a joke," Casey sobs. "I wasn't going to do it for real."

My dad sighs. He's a big softie when it comes to her. Everyone knows it's because he's a big softie when it comes to my mom; and Casey's nearly her clone. The only difference between them is the hair. Not color and length though. They're both blonds, and they both wear their hair long; but Casey's got curls. Very tight little spirals. My mom's hair is straight compared to it.

"Come with me," my dad says to my sister while pulling her outside by her upper arm.

It's all for show.

Casey's going to tell Dad that she thinks our mother doesn't like her very much.

Dad's going to tell her that our Mom loves her.

Casey's going to say a few more things that'll make Dad feel sorry for her.

And Dad will tell her that it's okay, not to do it again, and to apologize.

"Come here baby. Let me finish your hair," my mom says.

I sit down immediately without looking her way.

She still sounds mad.

By the time she's finished with my hair, Casey and Dad are coming back in through the front door.

"I'm sorry Lizzy," Casey says.

I accept her apology immediately, even though I know it's not a sincere one.

"I'm sorry Mom," Casey tells my mother. If she's not sincere with that one, she at least sounds like it.

"Apology accepted. Finish packing or you're going to be late for school," is my mom's answer.

I keep my eyes on my fingers as I finish packing my book bag.

It doesn't sound like my mom's accepted Casey's apology. It sounds like she's still mad.

"Lizzy, walk Noley to her bus stop please."

"Okay Mama," I respond; understanding that it's just her way of getting me out of the house so that she can cut my one of my sibling's hair. She's gonna use blue kryptonite. Scissors don't work in our hair without it. Well, green would work for me as well as blue because it weakens me; but it wouldn't work for any of the others.

That's why I've never had my hair cut. We tried once; but the blue makes us human. And apparently, I'm a very sick human. We're not sure what it is; maybe a brain tumor, or some form of advanced cancer. Whatever it is, it's painful; the worst headache imaginable. I'd gladly eat a bowl full of green kryptonite than stand ten feet within blue K.

I take Noley's hand after my parents kiss her cheek and walk her to the gate. It feels weird. Usually my mom walks us out; and while I always thought that was weird because the bus stops right in front of the gate; but the fact that she's not doing it today is a lot weirder.

"Are you really adopted?"

I look down at my sister's face. She's always asked a lot of questions; and I always try to tell her the truth; but this time I don't actually _know_ the truth.

I probably am adopted. It would explain a lot of things about me. Of course, my father is still my father. There's no denying that; but I don't think my mother is actually my mother. I have this theory. I think that maybe my dad got two women pregnant at around the same time. Normally, he's nothing like that; but I think that my parents were telling the truth about the red K thing. Personally, I've never seen a red K Clark Kent; but my mom says that Dad on rocks is a jerk.

I don't know what happened to the other woman. The woman who gave birth to me supposing I am adopted. She's probably not alive anymore. It would explain my illness and a few other things that are wrong with me.

'Lizzy! Are you listening to me? I _said,_ are you really adopted?"

I blink away my runaway thoughts and give my sister my full attention. I have to. She's jumped on me, wrapping her legs and arms around me loosely. I struggle a minute to keep her, her book bag, and myself from falling onto the ground. It wouldn't have hurt either one of us; but I can just imagine our mother would kill me if I let Noley get dirty just minutes before her bus arrived.

I can hear it coming now.

"_Lizzzzy_?"

I still don't know what to tell my sister; but I have to tell her _something_. She's got her palms pressed against my cheeks so that I can focus on her face, and her face only. I don't think she's gonna let go until I answer her.

"Will you still love me if I am?" I ask instead answering her.

She thinks about it for a second, leaning back away from me, crossing one arm over her chest, and tapping her index finger against her chin.

"Will you be the same?" She asks seriously after a few seconds.

"Would you love me if I was different?"

"Would you be different like Casey? Or like Johnny? Or like Andrew?"

"Who would you like me to be like?"  
"I don't know; like you are now I guess."

"Then that's how I'd be," I smile at her. Somehow, she always finds a way to make me feel better without even trying.

When the bus is within sight, she hops down immediately. She thinks she's so grown up now and she doesn't want anyone to see her hugged up against her big sister. That's for babies.

"Do you want me to go get Mama?" I ask her.

I know she's already kissed our mother goodbye, but at the same time; it's still the first day. Our mother should still be out here to see her off.

"Uh, Mom's still yelling at Kristin," Noley says with a smirk; and it lets me know that I'm in deep trouble. I've given my sister ammunition.

"Don't call her that!" I hiss.

"Why not? If she puts kryptonite in my cereal I'll just eat it up and nothing will happen."

I'm torn between laughing at her logic and keeping a stern face to let her know that I was serious about using Casey's real name.

Then I opt for neither and just try to fix up her hair a little before the bus stops in front of us. I don't understand how it always gets so messy so fast. It's barely shoulder length and it's nowhere near as thick as mine and Casey's.

As I don't have a comb on me; and I don't have the time to get one; I use my fingers.

"Ow, Lizzy, not so hard," Noley scowls up at me.

I frown back.

Her hairs really sticky…and glittery.

"Noley, what is this?"

"Glitter."

"And?"

"Glue. Bye Lizzy," my sister says while running away from me and literally hopping into the school bus.

'_Glue?'_ I ask myself and raise my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose.

That's when I realize I've got a problem. Noley's bookbag is still in my hand; and the bus is gone.

'_crap!'_

I take a deep breath after deciding to take it to her myself. I don't want to bother my mom unnecessarily if I don't have to; and my bus shouldn't be here for another twenty minutes. I should be back in time.

With that thought racing through my brain, I take off; not going as fast as I can at first because Noley's bus won't reach her school for another ten minutes.

I take my time; carefully avoiding spots that I know are more kryptonite prone; or spots that make me feel even slightly dizzy. And by the time I get to Smallville Elementary, Noley's _just_ getting off of her bus.

"Noley!" I hiss from behind a nearby bush. I feel kinda silly; but I don't want anyone on the bus wondering how I got from my house to the school before the bus did.

"Noley," I hiss again; when she looks behind herself instead of in my direction.

She sees me this time and grins before skipping over to me.

Well, it's somewhat of a skip and a hop at the same time; she's quite quirky that way; and I've gotten used to it. So it's not really weird to me.

"Did you bring my"-

I hold her book bag up as an answer; then I snatch it away from her when she reaches for it.

"Word of the day," I say.

"It better be a good one," she scowls back at me. She's never really liked the fact that despite my weaknesses I'm still faster than her.

"Ultimatum," I say when she raises her eyebrows at me.

She gives me the correct definition almost immediately.

"Now use it," I ruffle her hair playfully, letting her know that she got the answer right.

"If you do _that _again," she points to her hair. "I'll slip kryptonite into your lucky charms."

"Noley, I think that's more of a threat than an ultimatum," I laugh.

She just shrugs her shoulders and tells me that they're the same thing.

She's right.

"Now you use it," she tells me.

"Okay, either you give me a goodbye hug, or I'll tell Mama about the glue in your hair."

"I'll pass," she smirks and snatches her book bag out of my hand.

I raise an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to explain.

"You won't tell on me," she says confidently while turning away from me and heading toward her school.

She's right again. I let Noley get away with murder; and then some.

I turn to leave too. I still have a little time before my bus gets to my place.

"Lizzy wait!"

My mom's gonna kill me.

I'm dirty; and so is Noley.

She's jumped on me; and though my reflexes are quicker than normal people's, so are Noley's. I didn't have the time to blink, let alone catch her. She just came out of nowhere.

And now I'm in the bushes. On my back. With a grinning eight year old on top of me.

"Noley! Mama's gonna kill you, look at how dirty we are," I hiss while pulling leaves and things out of her hair. Like it will do any good. There're too many; and the glue's making it worse. Plus, I don't have the time.

"Me? You're the one who wanted a goodbye hug. You even gave me an ultimatum. I had to do it. What do you think Mom would say about that?"

I narrow my eyes at her.

"You're positively evil."

"Butcha love me anyway," she sings back while getting up and offering her hand to me.

I take it with a smile. When is she _not_ going to be right?

"I gotta go before the bell"-

She gets cut off by a ringing bell.

"Oh snapperdoodles!" she exclaims before running off.

I shake my head at her before running off as well; but much faster. The bus will be there soon.

When I get home, everyone's walking out of the house and toward the bus stop. Even Sammy.

It makes me pause at the door instead of running up to the shower the way I need to.

Was he really serious about going to Smallville High?

"Mama?" I call from the doorway. "Why is Sammy"-

"Moira Elizabeth! Where on earth have you-What happened to you?" my mother automatically changes from angry to concerned when she gets a good look at me.

I can tell she thinks that I might've had a run in with kryptonite; but all I need is one word to make her understand that I'm fine. And that word is…

"Noley," I answer. Plain and simple.

It works.

She relaxes immediately; and then she laughs at me.

"I'm going to take a shower," I mutter.

I shower quickly; but not quickly enough. My mom knocks on the door a few minutes later and tells me that I've missed my bus.

I already knew that. I heard it leave.

I sigh as I turn the water off. If my hair wasn't so long, I'd have been in and out of there. But my mom won't let me cut it. She doesn't like to see me hurt. Not even for a minute; but I really think I could handle a few minutes of green kryptonite.

Once I'm downstairs, my mother sits me down again and calls my father over so that he can dry my hair real quick.

It's quick, but it would've been quicker if my hair was shorter; and I have a feeling I'm gonna be late for the first day of school.

"Mama, can I get a ride to school?"

"Oh no you don't," my father answers for her. She's got a scrunchie n her mouth again.

"You're gonna have to run Sweet Pea."

"But Dad, what am I gonna tell people when they ask me how I got to school so fast?"

"Tell them you took a short cut."

"Through what? A black hole?"

They laugh at me then. Both my mother and my father. I wasn't trying to be funny. I really wanna know.

But they don't answer me. My mom just finishes up one braid and starts on the other one.

"Mama?" I start warily. This will be my first time asking her this; and I'm really nervous.

"Hmm?" she answers; scrunchie in her mouth again.

"Maybe if I was to get my hair cut, just a little"-

"Absolutely not!"

"But it wouldn't take long; just five minutes at the most, probably way less than that! I can do it; right Dad?" I look to my father, hoping to get his support; but the look he's giving me gives me absolutely no hope that he will support me on this.

My mom pulls on my hair, yanking my head back until I'm looking up at her and she's looking down at me. It didn't hurt, but still…

"No," she says firmly before loosening her hold on my braid.

I look down into my lap and let her finish my hair. I can feel my father standing beside me; but I don't look up at him. Not even when he puts a hand on my shoulder. I can't help but to feel that he would've at least tried to help me if I was Casey.

"You understand why the answer is no, don't you Sweet Pea?" my father asks while squatting down in front of me and grabbing my hands in his.

I want to tell him no; but I don't want to be difficult, so I nod my head and keep my eyes on our hands.

"That's my girl," he smiles. I can't see him; but he always smiles when he says that.

"Do you think I could get a smile from my girl?" he asks.

"Yes," I tell him with a soft smile.

"Well then, let's see it."

"I just did it Daddy."

"_That _was a smile?"

"Mmm-hmm," I answer with the straightest face I can manage.

"Are you sure?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Can I get a better one?"

"It was my best."

"I don't believe that. What about you Mama?" Dad asks my mother.

I look up at her; and as soon as I see the smile on her face I just know that I'm in trouble. That's the way Noley and Andrew look at me before they do something to me that they know I don't like.

Tickle me.

"Okay, okay," I forfeit and give my father the biggest, most genuine smile that I can manage.

Thank God he accepts it; and he pulls me out of the chair and away from my mother to protect me from her.

"Okay Sweet Pea, off to school. And remember, shortcut through the black hole," he tells me while kissing my forehead and trying to shove me out the door; but I dig my heels into the floor.

"Wait Dad, I didn't even kiss Mama goodbye!"

"And I thought you were going to forget me," my mother smiles up at me as I approach her. It's kinda weird; being taller than her; but Johnny is too, so I'm not alone in that.

"I won't ever forget you Mama," I say seriously before kissing her the way I've been kissing her since Johnny told her he was too old to be kissed on the lips. He wasn't being mean; he was just a kid; but he still hurt her feelings. I could tell. So I told her that I wasn't too old; and it made her smile. I was proud of myself for making her feel better.

Now it's habit; and probably weird, but she hasn't said anything to me about it yet; probably because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings by telling me that I'm too old now.

"Be careful out there Baby, and don't forget to come home right after school because we're going shopping with Auntie Lois."

"Okay," I sigh.

I hadn't forgotten about it, but I'd hoped that she had. A whole day with my cousins, and siblings, and Auntie Lois just doesn't sound like much fun.

I go outside, my thoughts still on the bad shopping experience I'm going to have in my near future; but then I see my brother and my mood changes instantly.

I can't believe he's still here!

"Johnny, why didn't you catch the bus with everyone else?" I say as calmly as I can; but it's really no use. He can see how excited I am, so he smiles at me and holds his hand out. I take it immediately.

We used to hold hands all the time when we were little; but I kinda had to stop it. At school, the other kids thought it was weird; at home, Casey thinks it's weird; and if we're anywhere that isn't Smallville, people think I'm his girlfriend.

Johnny doesn't really mind too much what everyone else says; but I don't want him to be teased. It would make me feel bad. He's always too busy watching over me to have a life of his own; I don't want to make him uncomfortable at school too.

"Hey Johnny,"-

"No Lizzy, I don't think you're adopted."

"How'd you _do_ that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

He smiles back at me.

"The same way you always know things. Race ya to school!" he says before taking off.

I smile after him; but he's wrong. I'm sure he was listening to me and Noley at the bus stop earlier.

That's not how I always know things.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **so, that's pretty much the world from Moira Kent's perspective. Again, if OCs aren't your thing, I'm sorry, but this whole story will be told from Moira and Chloe's POV's. It's the only way I can let you know all the details as Chloe can't exactly be with her children 24/7. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

And about the blue K for cutting hair, it's all Smallville's fault. In season 4's "Spell" episode "Isobel" tried to cut Clark's hair; but the scissors broke. It kinda confused me. I was like, "how does Clark cut his hair then?" but whatever. I did the best I could with what they gave me; and it helped with Moira's "problems" I think. I just hope it didn't confuse you too much.

Oh, and I'm sorry if everyone isn't as happy as you'd like them to be; but I think these are the kinds of problems that a family like this would have. I wanted to make them as realistic as possible considering they can hear for miles away and pick up cars and stuff.

Oh, and the Kristin thing was not a jab at Kristin Kreuk, the actress who plays Lana Lang. I swear on my life that I just liked the name Kristin Clark, because it was perfect for the whole K.C. turning into Casey thing; and as you see it was necessary for everyone to understand just how angry Chloe was with her daughter for threatening Moira. She might've overreacted; but I wanted her to because it would show that she's still on edge because of the nightmare she just had about her daughter being taken away from her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Kirsty Joy: **Lol, thanks!

**Lilbit4: **lol. I'm working on it.

**Jeremy Shane, Emma217: **Thanks!

**The fallen sky: **Thanks! Lol. I will admit that there a _few _similarities between Lizzy and I; but it's a very small few. Lizzy's got a lot more issues going on inside her head than I do; and she responds a bit differently. I really think I would've kicked Casey's ass a few times by now; but I can't really let Lizzy do that because I'm like that, not her.

Lol. You didn't hear much about Andrew because like I said, I was trying not to overload people with the OCs. There's more about him in this chapter though; hopefully you'll get a better feel of him. I really am trying to ease them in naturally so that they'll be easier to get a grip on. It's really hard.

I can tell you really enjoyed that chapter because you had a whole bunch of question and you jumped around a few times. Your review was a lot of fun to read; and lucky for you, most of your questions got answered in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it;)

**Dizzy78, Shonnia22, Madlenita: **Thanks! Casey is a bit of a brat isn't she? It's so funny how everyone pointed that out to me. That means I did what I set out to do;) I figure all Chlark's kids can't be sweet little angels.

**Anonymous**: Thanks! I thought so too. I'm pretty sure they'll get around to that;)

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I watch my son hold his hand out to his sister and I smile. If they saw me watching them through the window they'd probably be a little creeped out.

On second thought; no they wouldn't. They're probably used to it.

Other people would be creeped out by it.

I can't see my daughter's face; but I can tell that she's smiling when she takes his hand in hers. She's always liked to hold his hand; but then she stopped a few years ago. Probably because of Casey's constant teasing.

My smile changes into a frown suddenly. Jonathan's disappeared; but Moira's still standing there; just staring after him. Then she glances back at me; well, probably not at me but at the house. I watch as she bites her bottom lip nervously before she disappears as well.

That makes me nervous; the fact that she always seems to be nervous or uncertain about something. I wish she would just share her thoughts with me.

"She's fine," my husband whispers as he hugs me from behind and places a kiss on my temple.

I want to smile. It feels good to know that he knows me so well; but at the same time, I'm still worried.

"She's hiding something," I whisper back.

He laughs at me; and I turn to face him.

"What's so funny?"

His smile never wavers as he stoops a little and places his hands on my shoulders gently.

"She's not a little girl anymore honey. Of course she's hiding something. It probably has something to do with a boy she likes," he answers.

I raise an eyebrow at him. I have to say, I never expected to hear him say something like that so nonchalantly. He's never been good with the girls growing up. I remember the first time I mentioned getting Casey a training bra, his reaction had been a shocked gap at me and a "Train them to do what?" exclamation.

I laughed at him then; but he didn't laugh with me. He was serious. So, I gave a fake cough and asked him what he was going to do when it was time to start buying the girls a special sort of something once a month.

He didn't answer, and I could tell he didn't want to worry about that kind of stuff until the time came; and lucky enough for him it hasn't. My girls are fifteen and thirteen and they still haven't started their cycles. Moira doesn't seem to care about it; but I know it bothers Casey. All of her friends have started already; some as long as four years ago.

I don't know what to tell her other than it probably has something to do with her Kryptonian heritage.

"You don't agree," Clark frowns at me.

I blink away my thoughts. I haven't responded to his statement; the one bout Moira liking a boy.

I doubt that's it; it just doesn't seem like her at all.

"So you _really _don't agree," my husband frowns down at me when I still don't respond.

"It just doesn't seem like her, to hide the fact that she likes a boy," I answer honestly.

"It might not have been at first, but don't you remember what happened to the boy Casey liked?"

I nod my head and nearly smile; although I should be feeling sorry for the poor boy.

How could I ever forget that? It feels like it just happened yesterday; but in all actuality it was about six months ago.

Casey had a study date with a boy from one of her classes. He was two years older than her, making him fifteen; Jonathan's age. But that's what happens when you let your daughter skip a grade. Everyone's at least a year her senior. All the _boys _are at least a year her senior.

He came over at about seven o'clock to pick her up. Of course he doesn't have his license yet, so his sister drove him.

He left about ten minutes later…without my daughter.

It wasn't Clark. Though my husband interrogated him pretty ruthlessly, I got the impression that the young man had been interrogated by many fathers.

And it wasn't Jonathan. Yes, he's more than a little overprotective when it comes to his family; but he's willing to give people room to mess up. It isn't until they actually screw up that he'll step in; not a moment before.

It wasn't even Noley; though she's been known to give people a hard time just because she can.

It was Moira; then Andrew.

Moira had come downstairs after her shower. Apparently, no one told her someone was coming over; and she came downstairs in her PJs. PJs that always consist of a T-shirt and little else. I can remember that she was wearing the Aquaman t-shirt that her godfather bought her. It's one of her favorites, and it's pretty long; but not long enough.

Casey yelled at her, telling her to put shorts on because they had company.

I could see that it truly startled Moira; that she honestly didn't know someone was here who wasn't family. She jumped so bad that she nearly fell over; and judging by the color her face had turned within milliseconds, she was nothing short of mortified.

I looked at the boy. His name was Jason I believe. He was looking at Moira, watching her run back upstairs. And he was smiling; making it quite obvious that he liked what he was seeing.

Andrew saw him too. He saw what Jason was looking at; and I saw how angry it made him. Now, my son is a clown, always laughing, always joking, always up to something. But he's got a quick temper. A real quick temper. One second, he was playing some kind of made up game with Noley, and the next, he had his hands around Jason's throat.

Jonathan tried to help; but Andrew wasn't making it easy. It took both my husband and my oldest son to settle Andrew down.

By then Jason was gone. He'd run away as fast as he could.

Casey was beyond furious with Andrew. It was odd to see. She got along with her brother very well. Still does in fact. But she screamed at him that day; asked him, "What the hell did you do that for!"

"Me? What the hell are you doing? That guy's a jerk, if he'll watch Lizzy's, your _sister's_, ass in front of you what do you think he'd do behind your back?" Andrew yelled back.

Normally, my husband and I don't allow swearing, and that day wasn't an exception. They still got into trouble for it; but not until after they'd calmed down. Not until after they'd gone back and forth for nearly an hour over Jason being a jerk, and him being none of anyone else's business; and him being _everyone's_ business unless she planned on keeping him away from everyone in the house, especially Lizzy.

In the end, Andrew won; and Casey avoided Jason at school the next day; not that he didn't avoid her as well.

"Exactly," my husband chuckles when he sees the look on my face. "There's no way Lizzy would tell us if she liked a boy."

He's got a point. After what had happened with Jason, I don't think Moira would be too forthcoming with that kind of information; but I still don't think that's it. It's something else. Something more serious, and I wonder if it has anything to do with the reason she was crying in her sleep last night; if it had anything to do with whatever she was dreaming. And for the briefest second, I wonder if she had been dreaming about the same thing that I had; then I dismiss the thought because it was an extremely ridiculous one.

But while I'm thinking about the dream…

"Clark, tell me about the time you spent in the Phantom Zone," I ask before walking away from the window and sitting down in the same chair Moira had just been sitting in.

He sighs; like we've been over this a million times.

And we have.

"Chloe, we've been"-

"I just want to know," I shrug as nonchalantly as I can.

"You already know everything," he tells me.

Then he kneels before me and takes my hands in his; just the way he done to Moira just a few minutes ago

"I just think we're missing something. In my nightmares"-

"But that's _it_ baby. It's just a nightmare."

"A reoccurring nightmare, Clark. One in which Lex Luthor tells me that"-

"I made a deal with a Devil before taking our daughter away from you," he finishes for me with a sigh.

I can tell he's tired of this; but _I'm_ the one having this…_these _nightmares. I'm the one who has my child ripped out of my arms over and over again, and it hurts. Every time.

"Chloe, I didn't make a deal with the devil," he tells me.

"Then who did you make a deal with?" I rebuttal immediately.

I see the corner of his mouth twitch. I'm fishing; and I was hoping he'd be caught off guard and bite.

"Jor-el," he tells me.

It's always his answer. According to him, Jor-el didn't just send him to the phantom zone. Jor-el _asked_ him to go.

I've always had a problem with that part of the story. Jor-el never really does a whole lot of asking. He does telling, he does commanding, and he does 'if you don't do as I say I'm going to strip you of your powers or something even worse than that when I think of it'.

"Honestly Chloe, I did it for you."

I raise my eyebrows at him. This is a new one.

"Jor-el may have asked me to go; but I wanted to do it. I figured if I was going to lose to Brainiac and Zod, I'd rather have done it in a place where they couldn't hurt my family afterward. A place where they couldn't hurt you. It was an easy decision."

He was right not to tell me that until now. Fifteen years ago, maybe even five years ago, I would've chewed him out good for saying something like that to me; for saying that it was an easy decision for him to leave me.

"So what happened after you made that _easy_ decision to leave me?" I ask him. Okay, so maybe it's still a little too soon to tell me that it was an easy decision to leave me.

He blinks up at me before catching on to the mistake he made; then he immediately tries to fix it by placing his hands on my waist and pulling me down onto the floor with him.

I give in immediately when he kisses me; showing forgiveness by kissing him back. I already know the rest of the story anyway. I doubt he'll change it.

"Knock, knock."

I scramble off of Clark's lap at the sound of Lois's voice for two reasons. One; Clark is about to be _very_ mad at me; and two, I got so distracted that I wasn't thinking about how now is not exactly the best time for us to be doing _this_. According to the "kit" I'm very mush fertile right now; and it'll be a couple more days before the kit says otherwise.

"You know, I remember when I used to wish that the make-like-the-bunny phase was over; and well, it's fifteen years later and I'm _still _wishing for the same thing," Lois says as soon as she sees us. She didn't see me scramble out of my husband's lap like a ninth grader; but she can tell when we're being jumpy I guess.

"Hi Mikey," I stoop a little; directing my attention toward my three year old nephew instead of answering her. For someone who's always teasing me about me and my husband's bunny making ways, Lois is the one with the most recent bunny making result.

"Not Mikey Auntie, Kal-el," the toddler tells me.

I chuckle a little at the little boy; and exchange an amused look with Clark. Mikey changes his identity quite often. He's stolen the identity of as many justice league members as he can possibly remember; including Black Canary, which my brother-in-law had a slight problem with. Okay, a big problem with it; but there's only so much a two year old can grasp about the human anatomy, the birds and the bees, and the so on and so forth.

"Yeah, he's been Superman since this morning," Lois chuckles affectionately; and I know why. I can only imagine how many times she's teased the Green Arrow about it already. Mikey's been the Green Arrow a few times; but he's Superman a lot more often than the others. Superman's his favorite.

"Ready to fly Superman?" my husband grins before swooping the little boy up into his arms and tossing him into the air.

"Careful Kent; unlike your children, my kids' bones break," Lois smiles; but it's more of a warning than a joke.

Clark ignores her and takes off; tearing around the house with the laughing three year old. At normal speed of course. Mikey's too young to keep a secret.

"So, you ready to pick out wedding"-

I make a movement with my hand to quiet my cousin; and she gets it. She just gets it too late. Clark's made his way back into the dining area.

"Wedding?" he asks me while handing Mikey over to his mother.

I ignore the look Lois is giving me; the one that clearly says 'you didn't tell him yet?'

I shoot her a look of my own; making her let out a "oops," a smirk, and an, "I'm gonna fix Mikey a snack."

"What wedding?" Clark asks before Lois is completely out of earshot. I can hear her laughing at me. She knows I'm about to be in a lot of trouble. My husband doesn't like for me to keep secrets; but I didn't have a choice this time. The bride-to-be asked for secrecy because she knows how Clark can be; and I also suspect she wanted to wait as long as possible for him to meet the groom. That way he doesn't have enough time to intimidate him and make him bail out on the wedding.

"Chloe?" Clark frowns.

I understand the apprehensive look on his face. Me and silence mixing together is bad. I really wish she would've had the courage to tell Clark herself; instead of leaving me with the task.

"Chloe?" Clark repeats warily.

I clear my throat. "Lois and I are taking the kids to pick out something for the wedding," I start off without actually telling him who's wedding. I need to ease into this slowly. _Very_ slowly.

"What wedding?" he asks immediately.

I'm getting to that; but first…

"I need you to promise you'll go. She really wants you there"-

"Who really wants me there?" he asks suspiciously; by now he realizes that I'm leaving out names on purpose…and he's smirking at me.

He won't be smirking in a second.

"The wedding's three weeks from now and she wants you to meet the groom tomorrow"-

"Tomorrow?" he frowns.

"If you have the time," I finish.

His frown deepens. He's realizing that if he has to meet the groom tomorrow, then he's never met the man before in his life; and now he's about to marry a woman Clark apparently knows in just three short weeks.

"Who's getting married again?" he asks almost nervously.

I can tell by the way he said "again." I never told him who, and he knows that.

"Maddie," I confess.

"Maddie who?" he asks with narrowed eyes.

He's not really asking. We only know one girl, _woman, _named Maddie.

"Clark, she wants you to give her away," I say, trying to give him a bit of good news to distract him.

"She's… she just turned old enough to babysit Noley."

"Clark," I start off with a soft but amused smile. He's almost right.

Maddie was nine when the twins were born, not old enough to babysit superpowered babies even though she had a gift her own; but there wasn't really much the power of wielding glass could do to help her against their incredible lungs and poopy powers. When Andrew was born, she was ten and still not old enough. She'd just turned eleven when Casey was born, which still wasn't old enough. By the time Noley was born, she'd turned sixteen; still barely old enough according to Clark; but with the help of the twins, especially Moira, we felt she could handle the job.

"She's Lizzy's best friend," he continues quietly to himself with a shake of his head.

My smile gets a little bigger. I can understand his thought process, even if it is a little loopey. He's right about Maddie being Moira's best friend; and as Maddie's best friend, Moira has been chosen as the maid of honor; but I'll mention that part to Clark later. Right now Clark is thinking about how Moira is only fifteen years old; and since Maddie is her best friend, then Maddie is around that age as well; but she's not. Maddie's nine years older than my daughter.

It's a little odd I guess; Moira and Maddie being so close. I would love for my daughter to have a bunch of friends her own age, like my other children; but she doesn't. She hasn't asked to sleep over at another child's house, besides Maddie's; and she hasn't had very many kids so much as visit ours; not since Dawn. I try not to push and pry; and it's hard. I want her to be happy; but because she has Maddie I try not to interfere much. If she doesn't want to talk to me, At least she has _someone_.

"She's just a child," my husband concludes.

I roll my eyes then. Maddie's not a child anymore.

"She's twenty four, Clark."

He blinks at me before asking me if I'm sure; but before I can answer he shakes his head again, telling me that she's still too young.

I laugh then. Long and hard. So hard that tears begin to leak out of the corner of my eyes.

He's staring at me; completely confused, but I can't stop laughing. He can't be serious.

"Chloe?" he asks with an expression that's clearly full of concern for me and confusion for himself.

I hold a finger up, letting him know I need a few seconds and grab my stomach. It helps a little; but not much. I take deep breaths, hiccupping and covering my mouth until my laughter subsides.

"Nineteen," is what I tell him when I can finally speak again.

"I was nineteen when we got married. I gave birth to twins when I was twenty. I had another baby at twenty one; and then I gave birth to a little girl at twenty two," I conclude.

There's no need to mention Noley. I had her after I'd turned twenty four; not long after by the way; but my point had been to let Clark know that by the time I'd turned twenty four I had been married for five years and that I'd already given birth to four children.

Maddie's not too young.

"That was different," Clark tries; and he's right; it _was_ different.

Maddie's fiancé isn't a man who'd been her best friend since junior high; a guy that she was in love with straight through high school; but who always had eyes for another girl. Maddie's fiancé didn't whisk her off to Canada and marry her while under the influence of a red rock that affected him differently from everyone else on the planet. Oh, and Maddie's husband isn't an alien

It's definitely different; and definitely not bad. Maddie's fiancé, Greg, is a very nice guy. I've only met him a few times; but he seems to really love Maddie. I can tell.

I tell my husband all of this but he only hears one thing.

I've already met Greg.

And so have the kids.

And they really like him.

And Moira's the maid of honor.

And Casey's a bride's maid.

And Noley's a flower girl.

And he's never even heard the name Greg mentioned around the house.

Okay, so that's more than one thing; but add them together and they all mean one thing.

His whole family has conspired to keep this secret from him.

And again, that's not my fault. Maddie asked for secrecy. Clark's not her father; but there is a reason she's asked for him to give her away at her wedding. And the reason is because he may as well have been. He's known her since she was nine years old. He's helped her through a lot; and he's always there when she needs him. Now she needs him again; and he needs to be there for her.

"Clark, just give Greg a chance. Just meet with him tomorrow, and you'll see for yourself that he's a really nice young man," I plea.

"From just one meeting?" He asks skeptically while folding his arms over his chest.

He's being stubborn.

I can be stubborn too.

"This coming from the man who refused to pass judgment on a nine year old, one he'd just met the night before, who broke glass with her thoughts when she lost her temper," I remind him of how he refused to believe such a dangerous child was actually dangerous, even with all of the evidence painting such a clear picture. His instincts told him that the child wasn't a cold blooded killer; and his instincts were right. Maddie was just a troubled little girl, who had a cold blooded killer as a father.

All I'm asking is for him to use his instincts with Greg tomorrow. If he does, he'll like the man. I know he will.

Clark sighs, and his arms drop away from his chest.

I won.

Not that I'm keeping tabs or anything.

I walk up to him, wrap my arms around him, and lay my head on his chest.

He reciprocates and hugs me back, letting his chin drop onto my head. It makes me smile. He's so tall.

"So, we've kissed and made up already. Isn't that sweet."

I almost ignore my cousin. We've made up; but we haven't kissed.

Clark seems to know what I'm thinking because he says "not yet;" then he lowers his face to mine so that I _can _kiss him. He really is the best husband in the world. I'm really lucky; and will be forever grateful to that little girl who showed him her rock collection.

"So, are we ready to get a head start on this thing or not?" Lois asks. I don't understand why we're carpooling. We _need _two cars. I have five children, Lois has two. Nine of us can't fit into one SUV, no matter how big it-

I was thinking all of that while I was walking to the window; but now that I see the "SUV" I'm not thinking that anymore.

We can definitely fit into _that_.

"Lois, you shouldn't have"-

"I didn't, Oliver did."

"But you guys have already done so much already."

"You used the word "already" twice in that sentence cuz," Lois laughs at me. "And besides, Sammy really wanted to do it, I barely asked him before he jumped on his motorbike and was on his way to your place."

I laugh; but I hope she's not joking. I would feel a lot more than guilty if she forced Sammy to do this for me. And I'd feel even worse than that if Moira ever found out I sent her cousin to spy on her at school. But it's not really spying per se. he's just going to be in every class of hers that she and Jonathan don't share, that's all. Just to watch her, and keep her safe. It's not like I'm asking Sammy to report back to me with every little thing that happens in class; just the big stuff; like Lex coming to school and taking her away or something like that. That's all.

But it's not really all. Clark doesn't agree with it. He thinks Sammy should stay in Metropolis; that if something like Lex coming to take our daughter away did happen, I'd be putting Sammy in danger because my nephew wouldn't exactly just sit there and let someone take his cousin away. He'd get hurt; probably even die while trying to stop such a thing from happening.

That's when I reminded him of what he always tells me. That my nightmares are just that; nightmares. That the likelihood of Lex waking up out of his fifteen year old coma to take our child away is slim to null; so, Sammy should be just fine…unless he, my husband, knew something about the nightmares that I should know.

That's how I won that one. Clark's always telling me that it's just a dream; and if it _is _just a dream, then he has nothing to worry about. Right?

After that, the rest was easy. I just told Lois about the nightmares; she was horrified, and it worried her that the nightmares were recurring; then I told her how much better I'd feel if there was someone to watch my daughter in class when she didn't share with Jonathan. She offered up Sammy so fast that I think she might've had a heads up from an unknown source. I told her not to be ridiculous; that Sammy didn't have to come to a public school just because I was having nightmares. She told me Sammy's never really liked private school and would love to go to a public school; even one as backwards as Smallville High. I laughed at her and told her it still wouldn't work because Sammy's a freshman, my daughter is in the tenth grade. She told me she could fix that. And she did. Quickly. There's a lot being rich can do for you I guess.

"Enough staring at the Limo, Chloe. Kiss that husband of your goodbye and let's go for a ride," Lois says while scooping Mikey, um Kal-el, up and leaving.

I do as I'm told. I stop staring at the Limo and I kiss my husband goodbye. He tells me he has to get back to work and that he loves me before zipping off.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and text my children, even Noley. I tell them that there's going to be a change of plans. And that I need them to meet me at the mall in Metropolis after school instead of coming home; and that one of them has to piggy back Sammy. They message me back, Casey and Andrew send me an "okay" to meeting at the mall; but a firm "no" to piggy backing Sammy. Noley and Jonathan almost say the same thing; "okay" to the mall; but a "maybe" for Sammy. Moira just sends one word, "okay."

I smile at the message. She's the most agreeable child I have. She'll do anything I say; not that every mother's dream is blind obedience from her child; but it does make certain things a little easier.

I jump a little when I hear the honking of a horn. It's Lois's not so subtle way of telling me to hurry up.

I'm coming; but I just have one more call to make.

He picks up on the first ring; just like he always does. It's been fifteen years, and the man hasn't changed.

"He's still unconscious Mrs. Kent," is all he says.

But I know what he's talking about. It's all _we_ ever talk about.

Lex Luthor.

"Thank you, Grady," I say before hanging up my phone and joining Lois in the Limo.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lilbit4: **It's gonna be a while; but I _am_ working on it. Sorry.

**Jeremy Shane, Kirsty Joy, Geno beast: **Thanks!

**Dizzy78: **You know, I never thought of how long Maddie and Greg had been dating. I want to say about a year. It's a miracle she's been able to keep him a secret for that long huh?

**The fallen sky: **Thanks! I'm really glad you think I'm doing okay with my OCs.

"Train them to do what?" I thought the line was Clark-like. He seemed to have trouble with Chloe growing up and dating and stuff. I figured he'd be worse with his daughters. And I can't say how; but the puberty stuff is important otherwise I wouldn't have mentioned it. I can be just as squeamish as the guys when it comes to that kind of stuff;)

Lol. I know what you meant about Casey; and I think it's good that you seem to have a grasp of her personality so early in the story. That means I did what I set out to do. Yay! And Andrew, I'm glad you got to see him. I thought I was going overboard with the choking at first; but the way the story plays out, it was too Andrew-like to omit.

I agree with you. I loved Maddie on the show; and I was very sad when she got shipped off to her grandmother's and then they just forgot about her. Based on the relationship she and Clark forged within a day, I would have thought she'd be in his life for a long time…so I made it happen. That's the awesome power of fanfiction;)

Anyway, I got a surprise for you in this chapter. I hope you like it; well, I mostly hope you're not offended by it. Just don't read too much into it. I just thought it'd make you smile. But if you don't like it, I can always fix this chapter and repost it. Gosh, now I'm nervous again.

**Shonnia22: **Thank you! I'm glad you're liking the fact that Lois is pretty much the same. I used her a lot in "I'll Be Right Here" to lighten the mood. That was a very depressing story.

**Madlenita: **Lol. I figured you guys would like that.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I've been in school for twenty minutes. That's it; and I can already tell this is going to be a bad day.

Sammy's in my class; and he's sitting behind me.

Why? I have no idea. He's _supposed_ to be in Metropolis.

How? I _really _have no idea. He's _supposed_ to be a freshman.

I smell a conspiracy.

And then I feel a vibration; one that lets me know that my phone is receiving a text message.

I try to wait until my teacher, Mr. Reynolds, turns his back to answer it; but he doesn't really seem to have the desire to do so.

I can't wait forever. It might be an emergency; so, I pull my phone out as inconspicuously as I can and I read the message.

I get caught though, and it's not because Sammy just whispered, "Ooo, I'm telling." I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who heard him say that. It's because we got _another_ new kid in today; and Mr. Reynolds was looking for a volunteer to show him or her around the school today. I'm not sure which it is, a him or a her, as I haven't been paying much attention to my teacher. I heard most of what was said, but I was too busy thinking about how much I don't want to piggy back Sammy to the mall while agreeing to do it at the same time. It's not like I have much of a choice. I don't think my other siblings will do it; and it's not like I can just leave my cousin behind.

"Thank you for volunteering Lizzy," Mr. Reynolds says as he takes my phone away.

None of my teachers ever call me Moira. Not even the strictest ones. That's what happens when you grow up in a town like Smallville. Teachers know who you are before you even enter their classroom. They've met you several times at the park, or at the grocery store, or at your fifth birthday party; or if you're as unlucky as I am, they can be the father of a little girl you failed to protect.

I apologize to my teacher, keeping my eyes on my desk. He doesn't know that I'm not really apologizing for having my phone on me.

He doesn't know that his daughter is dead because of me.

"Ms. Kent, do you think you can at least introduce yourself to the young man you'll be spending so much time with today?"

Everyone in the classroom snickers quietly when I jump a little in my seat; but my cousin's the loudest. God, this is embarrassing. I don't usually get into so much trouble. Actually, I don't usually get into _any _trouble; so, I can imagine my face is no less than three shades lighter than a tomato right now.

"We're all waiting, young lady," Mr. Reynolds says to speed me up a little. I'm still trying to find the courage to look up from my desk.

"Hel-hello," I stammer once I finally look over at the desk beside myself and get a good look at my new classmate, who is_ definitely _a "him." Then I take a few deep breaths and swallow hard a couple of times. I think I'm going to be sick.

The other kids laugh a little harder; and I imagine they either think it's because I'm still embarrassed, or because I'm really shy around boys, or both.

I don't blame them for thinking that. Me and boys don't mix too well; especially good looking boys. I can see, and _hear_, that this one's already piqued the interest of nearly every girl in this classroom; even ones who aren't exactly available right now. He may be the new kid; which means he's susceptible to a few friendly welcoming pranks and teasing according to unwritten high school rules; but I don't think it's gonna happen this time. This boy's different; nothing like the boys here at Smallville High. He's mysterious…dark.

Dark hair; almost black.

Dark eyes; nearly black, just like mine.

Dark clothes; a black t-shirt and dark jeans.

Dark mood; _really_ dark mood. I'm sure he hasn't smiled once since he got here. He hardly ever smiles. I would know. He's my friend. Sort of. Okay, so he's not really my friend; in fact, we don't exactly get along. Not even a little. He's just someone I've known for a _very_ long time. But he's also my secret; and now he's here, in class with me…and my cousin.

Not a good place for a secret to be.

It's making me nervous; more nervous than I've ever been in my entire life. I want to ask him what he's doing here; but I can't. He's the new kid. I'm not supposed to know him.

"What's your name?" I ask him instead.

"Heath," he tells me without smiling or looking my way.

I make a face at him. Of course he doesn't see it because he's looking straight ahead.

Heath? It's not a bad name I guess; it's just not _his_ name. But I suppose I don't really expect him to use his real name.

In fact, now that I think about it, I prefer the fake name. It gives me hope that he's not here to _completely_ destroy my life.

"I'm Lizzy," I tell him while looking up at Mr. Reynolds. I want to smile to let my teacher know that I'm on board with giving "Heath" a tour of Smallville High; but I don't think my face can actually _make _a smile right now.

I don't think Mr. Reynolds cares though. He has my phone, and he has a tour guide for the new kid. He's satisfied.

As he heads back to the front of the room, my cousin pokes my back and whispers lowly that he thinks I have a crush on the new kid, and that he's going to tell my mom.

He's joking; about telling my mom at least. Sammy doesn't usually tell on anyone. But I think he seriously thinks I like "the new kid" as he called him. He couldn't be more wrong about that; but I'm not helping to persuade him otherwise either. During the whole class, I keep sneaking looks at "Heath", and dropping things, and stammering.

When the bell finally rings, I take off; needing to go somewhere, anywhere, to get myself together; but Mr. Reynolds stops me. He tells me that I'm forgetting something while nodding his head in the direction of a Jeremiah, that's his real name by the way, who's taking his precious time to pack his one notebook and one pencil up before leisurely making his way toward me. He still hasn't smiled yet; and though I'm used to him not smiling, I still wish he would so that he could look like a normal kid.

He needs to blend in better.

Smallville is not like the city. The gothy emo thing doesn't really work here unless you _want _the attention; and I really don't need him to have any attention today. Not while I'm his guide.

"So, how do I get to room 203, _Lizzy_," Jeremiah asks me without the slightest amount of enthusiasm.

I roll my eyes at the way he says my name. Jeremiah's never called me that before. He only knows me as Moira. And he doesn't even call me _that_. But that's okay. It's not like I _actually_ call him Jeremiah either.

I pull him to a corner in the hallway. It's not a private place at all; but if we whisper low enough while everyone's bustling around trying to get to their next class there's a good chance we won't be overheard. Or _I _won't be overheard. Jeremiah's not much of a talker.

"What do you want from me?" I hiss.

He sighs as if I'm the one irritating him; as if I'm the one who's transferred to _his _school. He doesn't even have the decency to feign surprise or shock. He knows that I know he came to Smallville High for me. He's seventeen years old, nearly two years my senior _and_ a senior this year. Why else would he be in a sophomore's class; in _my _classroom. I don't believe in coincidences; and if I did, I'd be really stupid to believe that this is one of those.

"What _I_ want has _nothing_ to do with you. Or yet, it's _to_ have nothing to do with you," he whispers as he takes a step or two forward and leans into me.

I lean back from him, trying my hardest to ignore the looks some of my schoolmates are sending my way. I understand them. I'm entirely too close to the new kid. I don't even get half as close to any of the guys here and I've known them practically my whole life.

"But here I am, waiting for you to take me to our next class," Jeremiah finishes while keeping his eyes on me. He doesn't so much as glance around himself to acknowledge the kids staring at us. That's because they're not important to him. No one's important to him. I've known him for eight years and _I'm_ not even important to him. Just like he said; he wants nothing to do with me. I already know that. He's told me a million times so I kinda just didn't pay attention to that part of his little rant. The part that I _did_ pay attention to however, the part about him waiting for me to take him to our next class, makes my heart sink.

"_Our_ n-next class," I stammer while snatching his schedule out of his hand. I nearly ripped it while doing so; and I definitely want to rip it after reading it. We have the same schedule. The same _exact _schedule. Even free period.

I feel like chewing him out something awful…as well as his mother. There's no way he could have done this without her. The same way Sammy couldn't have ended up in my grade, in my _class_, without _his_ parents. That conspiracy theory I'd been thinking about earlier is starting to actually sound plausible.

"If you want to play hooky, just say the word," Jeremiah says. It's his way of letting me know that it's time to go to our next class, together. But I also suspect that he wouldn't exactly _mind_ skipping class either.

Without another word, I turn on my heels and lead him to room 203. Spanish 2; a class taught by a teacher whose native tongue is actually French. He's not that bad though. He's really nice, more of a pushover really, so he doesn't say anything when Jeremiah and I arrive a few seconds after the bell.

Sammy has something to say though. He's in yet another one of my classes apparently; and as soon as I sit down, not in front of him this time, he whispers an inappropriate remark about Jeremiah and me. It doesn't matter that I'm sitting on the opposite end of the classroom from him. He knows that I can still hear him.

I respond by taking a deep breath and trying to pay attention to my lessons.

It almost works.

Almost; but obviously Sammy's not the only one who's noticed how "weird" I'm being with the new kid, "Heath."

Everyone knows that Mr. Baton won't pay attention to their whispering and note passing. So they're doing a lot of it; but to my dismay, they're doing a lot more whispering than note passing. I would prefer it the other way around of course. At least I can't _hear _what's being written down on paper. And what I'm hearing is that Josh and Allen think they should "welcome" the new kid to Smallville High; and trust me, it wouldn't be a friendly welcome because Daisy keeps staring at Heath; but Nicole keeps reminding her that she can't have Heath because she's been going out with Josh for five whole months now. And Daisy wants Nicole to shut up because Nicole just wants Heath for herself; and Chantel wishes the two of them would just shut up and has just whispered to Carla that she's going to try to talk to Heath before Nicole can get the chance to; all she has to do is steal him away from the Lizzy first...

The nonsense goes on and on; but it's nothing worth listening to. But that doesn't mean everyone _won't_ listen; it means just the opposite actually. At this rate, I give the whole school another half an hour to find out that there's a new kid at Smallville High; and they wouldn't be finding out about Sammy. He may be new here; but he's not new here in Smallville. Everyone knows that the Kents are related to the Queens; but Heath/Jeremiah, no one's ever seen him before. And now the "odd" Kent kid is showing him around, and she keeps tripping over her own feet, stuttering nonstop; maybe even blushing. And no, I'm not exactly blushing; but one look at my red face and that's what the rumor will be. They'll never consider the fact that I'm nervous, embarrassed, and maybe even a little angry.

Spanish class ends an eternity later and now I'm on my way to the next one. _We're _on our way to the next one. Jeremiah's following behind me. I'm sure of it, though I've refused to check behind myself to see if it's actually true. I don't want to talk to him right now. It only irritates me.

I pass by the bathroom; then I stop abruptly, getting an idea. I don't want to sit through another class with him. I don't think I _can_ sit through another class with him, with Jeremiah.

He doesn't bump into me or anything when I stop. He just keeps walking as if I hadn't stopped; and he's walking with Chantel. The girl wasn't lying when she said she'd talk to him before Nicole. I'd like to thank her for taking over my job for me. I'm sure she'll get him to his next class safely; or maybe they can both skip class together, like I'm going to do right now.

I double back a little and head for the sanctuary that is the girls' bathroom. One small paranoid glance behind myself lets me know that Jeremiah's seen me; but he keeps walking as if he hadn't. I'd question that further; but right now I've got other things to think about. If the ladies room is the place for that, then so be it.

I pick a stall, the last stall, and sit. I've never missed a class before; well, not on purpose, and certainly not to just think.

Apparently, I'm not going to be able to do so today either.

Not even a full minute later, there are shoes outside my stall; dark shoes that belong to a guy with a dark mood.

"Mosey, get out of there and get to class."

"_You_ get out!" I hiss. I shouldn't have to say that. This is the girls' bathroom. Why would he even risk coming in here? What will everyone think if someone sees me and him come out together? Not that he cares. In fact, he'd probably like what everyone will assume if they saw me come out of the girls' bathroom with a guy. The fact that I'd be completely humiliated would probably amuse him immensely.

"I'm going to count to five," is his answer.

"And then what?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"I'm using the bathroom!" I lie.

"No you're not; five."

"I've got my period," I lie even more. I've learned from my father, brothers, and uncles that guys don't like to talk about girls' cycles.

"You haven't even started yet; four," he answers calmly.

Except for guys like Jeremiah I guess.

"Three."

I seriously consider dropping my pants and _actually_ sitting on the seat; but think better of it. He'll probably come in anyway; and then he'll see me.

"Two."

"Okay, okay," I relent; but I'm not fast enough. He's already on "one," down on all fours, and crawling through the huge and unnecessary gap at the bottom of the stall.

He stands up, drawing himself up to his full height and glares at me. He's irked that I didn't obey him immediately by coming out as soon as he said "five."

"I said I was coming," I say in my defense; and then I push past him, upset at myself for feeling the need _to _defend myself to him in the first place.

As soon as I'm out of the stall, I freeze. There's another boy in here, in the girls' bathroom; but this boy probably knows me better than my own mother. I'm really bad at lying to him; but I know I'm going to have to now. And I'm going to have to be convincing. I don't have a choice.

"Johnny, what are you doing in the girls' bathroom?" I ask my brother.

"Probably the same thing I'm doing in here; checking up on you," Jeremiah answers from behind me. I nearly pinch the bridge of my nose; but I somehow manage to settle for crossing my arms over my chest. Why couldn't Jeremiah just stay in the stall? It's not like Johnny can see through them. They're covered in lead paint. We can't see through lead; or hear through it for that matter.

Johnny walks toward me, making me nervous; but I fight hard against biting my lip or doing anything else that would give me away.

"Here, you left these," Jeremiah says while holding my books out to me, seemingly oblivious to my brother's presence. And right now, it _is _most definitely a presence. First, I wasn't in my English class, one of the few classes that Johnny and I share together, and now he finds me in the bathroom with another guy.

I try to keep my face neutral as I thank Jeremiah and take my books; like it's perfectly normal and innocent to find two people of the opposite sex cooped up in one of the stalls of the girls' restroom. I think I'm doing okay with it though. Johnny hasn't thrown Jeremiah against the wall and dragged me out by the arm. Then again, Johnny _is_ the least violent of my brothers. He'll hear me out before he jumps to a conclusion, no matter how inappropriate the situation may appear.

"You're her twin brother right? She told me about you. I'm Heath by the way," Jeremiah continues while holding his hand out to my brother. It's a bold move; but I'm not at all surprised by it.

Johnny eyes him briefly before taking Jeremiah's offered hand and formally introducing himself.

Jeremiah smiles, looks my brother straight in the eyes, and lies.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm new here; but I'm sure you probably figured that out by now; small town and all," he says everything convincingly; using the right tone as well as his hands to gesture an emphasis on "small town". I'm not sure my brother buys it yet. His face is set into that seemingly pleasant expression he uses when he's thinking something over. Usually "the face" is reserved for Noley and Andrew; but I'm not surprised he's using it now. Like Jeremiah said, he's new here. Johnny doesn't know what kind of person he is yet.

"Your sister was chosen to be my chaperone for the day; but she suddenly ran into the bathroom a few seconds ago. I called to her; but she didn't answer me and it made me worry that she was sick or something."

Johnny raises his eyebrows at me. I don't get sick unless there's kryptonite around.

"I know, I know," Jeremiah cuts in before I can let my brother know that I'm fine via a look of my own.

"I should've gone to get help; but I wanted to make sure she was well enough to be left alone before I actually left her alone.

"Lizzy?" Johnny inquires when Jeremiah's done lying, sort of. He mostly told the truth; which is probably what made the lie easier to tell, as well as believable.

"It's sort of true," I sigh heavily. Taking my cues from Jeremiah, I look my brother straight in the eyes and I lie to him. Sort of. While mostly telling the truth.

"I was trying to cut class and"-

"_You_? Why were you trying to cut class?" Johnny cuts in with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Sammy," I shrug while shifting my books to my other arm. They're not getting heavy. I'm just nervous.

"What about Sam?" my brother frowns.

"I don't want to be a tattle," I answer.

Johnny just looks at me, waiting for me to continue even though I really had no intention of going any farther. The look on his face is clearly saying 'you can tell me anything and you know it.'

"Well, you know how Sammy is; and he's been in all of my classes so far; and he keeps saying things about me…and um…" I glance back at Jeremiah; letting my brother know without words that Sammy wasn't just talking about me and me alone.

"And he's not the only one. I keep hearing the other kids talking too and I just needed a break. Are you gonna tell Mama?" I ask while simultaneously, and nonverbally, pleading for him not to. I don't like making trouble for her. She's got Noley and Andrew for that. And trust me, they're enough.

"I won't have anything to tell if you get to class right now. You've only missed a few minutes," Johnny smiles.

I grin back excitedly and hug him quickly before exiting the bathroom. That was so close; and I can't believe it worked!

But then, I'm not so sure that it _did _work. A few steps down the hallway later I realize that my brother's still in the bathroom with Jeremiah. It makes me nervous again, so I stop to listen.

"So…you couldn't check to make sure she was okay from _outside _the stall?" I hear Johnny ask.

"You're right to be suspicious of me. I did lie to you and I want to apologize."

'_Oh no,' _I think to myself; but I don't go back in there even though I really want to. I just stand still and listen.

"Lied about what?" This from Johnny of course.

"Her being sick. You're her brother and I thought I'd get her in trouble if I mentioned she was trying to skip class; but then she just told you the truth without hesitation. You two must be very close," Jeremiah answers smoothly.

"We are close; but not close enough to share the same stall," my brother replies in a tone that suggests he doesn't think Jeremiah and I should be close enough to share the same stall either.

"I _am _sorry about that. It was inappropriate. I let my pride get the best of me."

'_Pride?'_ I frown.

"Pride?" Johnny echoes my thoughts.

"I couldn't get her to come out," Jeremiah chuckles softly. It's a fake chuckle. Jeremiah never chuckles. But it's a good chuckle. I'd believe it was real if I didn't know any better.

"I told her that if she didn't come out and go to class I'd go in and get her. She didn't come out. I told her that I'd count to five. She still didn't come out. I counted to five and she called my bluff. I had to either go in and get her like I threatened to do or admit defeat. My pride wouldn't let me admit defeat."

I can't see him; but I imagine he shrugged his shoulders after that sentence.

"She's not usually so stubborn," Johnny says; but I can hear the smile in his voice.

Jeremiah chuckles again. "Honestly, I don't blame her. The other students have been talking about me and her nonstop. By the time first period was over she was beet red"-

I leave and go to class then. I don't need to hear anymore. I heard the most important part; and that part is the fact that my brother believes Jeremiah.

When I open my classroom door, all eyes turn to me. I knew it would happen. That's what happens when you're late.

"Lizzy, sit down please. You may have missed a few things by being late; but I assure you, an empty desk is _not_ easy to miss."

Mrs. Pratt. One of the strictest teachers here at Smallville High; in Smallville period. No one even snickers at the remark she made. She wouldn't have allowed it.

I find myself a seat quickly. Like she said, an empty desk isn't hard to miss. As soon as I sit, everyone's eyes turn to the door once again as my brother and Jeremiah enter the room.

Mrs. Pratt doesn't say anything to them. My brother had her permission to go fetch me and "Heath" is the new kid.

Johnny sits in front of me; Jeremiah sits about three desks across from me; and _no one _whispers about Heath and Lizzy.

I'm starting to feel better. And I stay feeling better throughout the whole class…then came lunch period. I tried to sit by myself outside; but Jeremiah decided to sit with me, evoking more stares and more whispers because he didn't just sit next to me. He sat really close. But that was just to slip me my other phone without other people noticing. His mother gave it to me a while ago, but I don't get to keep it with me. When I'm done using it, I have to send it back with Jeremiah. Its sole purpose is to allow me to communicate with him via text so that I can't be overheard by my father or siblings. Not that we have to use it often. I can actually count on my fingers the amount of times that we have. If no one's around to actually see us, we usually resort to sign language. His mother taught us when I was little. I thought it was a fun game and I showed it to Casey; that way we could "talk" whenever we weren't _supposed_ to talk. Not that we talk much now anyway. I've been thinking about showing Noley; but I'm afraid of what she'll do with it.

He texts me that I'm not to come over anymore. Ever. No matter what.

I text him back, asking why.

He sends me one more text before getting up, taking my phone back, and walking away.

It said "dangerous."

That concerns me. What kind of dangerous? Though there's really only one kind of dangerous; but I want to know exactly what's so dangerous that I can't visit anymore. I may not get along with Jeremiah; but I love his mother. She's almost like a second mother to me. I don't think it's fair for me not to be able to visit again; or say goodbye at least.

I stand up and look around myself quickly. I can see my siblings and my cousin; but they're really not paying attention to me.

I catch up with Jeremiah; but he keeps walking; so, I hurry and get in front of him.

"Why?" I sign.

"I already told you," he signs back.

"Says who?"

"_She _said so," he signs. He's referring to his mother; but I don't believe him and I tell him so.

"I swear on Fluffy," he signs back to me.

Now I know he's serious. He probably loves his pet snake more than he loves his mother. Yes, he has a pet snake named fluffy. We were kids when we named him.

"Promise me," he signs.

I don't want to promise him that I'll stay away; but I do it anyway. If it's what his mother wants then I'll do it.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **I know, I know; _another_ OC; but hey, it's my birthday today. Literally. I just turned 24 so be nice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Madlenita, Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**The fallen sky: **I'm so glad you like your surprise. I wasn't sure at first; but I just did it and hoped for the best.

Also glad you feel so strongly about the OCs; it makes me feel much better. Even Heath/Jeremiah. I'm glad I was able to throw that curveball in there and shake things up. I didn't know what everyone would think about him; but they seemed to have received with the same amount of curiosity as you have. Well, not as much. Lol. You seem to be overly excited about him; and you asked a whole bunch of questions I can't answer;) I will say that Johnny's a little more perceptive then you think.

Oh, and there will be a background fill in about Fluffy of course; just not in this chapter.

**Lilbit4: **Going on strike from what? I don't understand what you mean by that dear.

**Fan: **wrong story hun;)

**Nakala: **Lol. He's a surprise.

**Dizzy78: **Thanks! I had a good birthday. Jeremiah's a surprise;) I hope you're okay with him.

**Shonnia22: **Thank you! You know, I'm pretty sure that Lizzy can turn her hearing off; but she was so nervous I don't think she could really concentrate. And I think a part of her wanted to hear what was going on.

**Lois Joanne Lane: **Thank you so much! I try to make them as realistic of a family as I possibly can. As for Jeremiah, the cousin Lizzy kept referring to was actually Sammy, not Jeremiah.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I check my watch while Lois isn't looking my way. She hates it when I do that; it's like I'm rushing her or something. Although, why she feels the need to spend nearly an hour in every store she comes across is beyond me.

I keep my sigh to myself when I see the time. It's only 2 o'clock. My high school kids won't be here for another fifteen minutes; Noley for another forty minutes. I know, what's fifteen more minutes after being here, in the mall, since nine o'clock; nearly five hours. Let me tell you; fifteen minutes is more time I have to spend looking at the same dress Lois has been holding up for ten of those fifteen minutes while trying to decide whether or not one of my girls would look good in it; even though it'd be much easier to make that kind of a decision if they were here because then they could try it on and see.

But I do it anyway. I make it for fifteen more minutes; and I'm awarded a minute later by the sight of my children and nephew making their way toward me.

One quick scan and I realize one of them is missing.

Moira.

No one else seems to notice, or be disturbed by that, but me; not even Jonathan.

I try to keep myself calm when the children stop in front of me, greeting me with their usual "hey mom's and hi Auntie's". Even Casey seems to be in a better mood when she speaks to me. I want to greet them back. Especially Casey because we didn't part on such good terms this morning; but the first words out of my mouth are, "Where is"-

"Hey, Little Fella! Where's Red? I want her to try this on," Lois yells from across the room, interrupting me. I don't mind so much this time. Even if she _is_ asking for a different reason, she's asking the question I want an answer to.

Jonathan turns quickly and heads towards his aunt with shake of his head and an endearing smile on his face. I can understand the shake of his head. Lois began calling him "Little Fella" while he was still in my womb. Now, he's not so little. In fact, he's taller than she is; but she can't seem to quit the nickname. It's been a decade and a half; bad habits dying hard and all.

And as much as I wish he would've given me an answer before going over to his aunt, I begin to feel a _little_ better. Obviously, he _does_ know that Moira is missing; and he's smiling, which means he probably knows where she is and that she's perfectly fine. But I don't feel a _hundred_ percent better about this. I guess I realize that wherever Moira is, she's alone. I don't like her to be alone. Anything can happen to her.

"Hey Sammy, I thought Lizzy was the one who was gonna give you a ride here," I say to my nephew before he can drift off the way Casey and Andrew have. I try to keep my tone as light as possible; and I try even harder not to sound the least bit accusing.

"She did, but then she went back for Noley. She didn't want her to come alone," Sammy answers me with a smirk.

I'm not too sure of what the smirk is all about; but I'm too busy thinking about my daughters to ask him. I can't believe I didn't think about the fact that Noley getting out of school later than the others would mean she'd have to speed over to the mall alone. I'm relieved, but not at all surprised, that Moira did. She thinks of everything, and everyone; but I'm still a little nervous about Moira being the one to fetch her. Not surprised, just nervous.

Casey wouldn't have done it unless there was no one else to do it. She doesn't tolerate her little sister as well as the others do. In fact she doesn't seem to tolerate either of her sisters; but she gets along with her brothers just fine.

Jonathan and Andrew would have done it; but I think they knew Noley would've wanted Moira. She absolutely adores her oldest sister; but she tries to hide it because she doesn't seem to want Moira to know it. Why? I have no idea; but everyone else can see it of course. It's funny; Moira is probably the only one who doesn't realize how crazy Noley is about her. She's so much like her father in that way. I was crazy about Clark for years before he finally got a clue; and not on his own either.

I pull my phone out of my purse and try to ignore my nephew. He's still standing in front of me; and he's still smirking at me. Probably because I worry too much over my children, and even though he should be used to my "mama bear" ways, they still seem to amuse him.

Impatiently, I tap my index finger against the back of my phone as it rings. Once, twice, too many times. I'm prepared for her voicemail when she finally picks up.

"Hi Mama," is what she says.

It's _all _she says. I've been worried about her and all she says is "Hi Mama. I realize that's crazy; that I'm becoming a little too paranoid, but I can't seem to help it. And it takes a lot of will power for me to keep from asking her what took so long to answer her phone. There are many reasons why she could've taken so long. Though I can't think of one that doesn't involve my child being hurt right now.

"Mama? Are you okay?" Moira asks me when I don't answer.

I laugh a little. _She's_ asking _me_ if I'm okay. I've been worried about whether or not _she_ was okay. We really are a pair.

"I'm fine, Lizzy. And you? Are you okay there by yourself?" I ask her.

In my mind, I'm begging for her not to be okay with being there by herself. That way I can send Jonathan, or Andrew, to wait with her. That way, I'll feel much better.

"I'm fine," she answers hesitantly.

Hesitancy. Hesitancy's good; well it's not _good_; but it's not all bad either. It means that she may be too embarrassed to admit she doesn't like being by herself; and it provides me with the opening I need.

"If you want, I can send Jonathan or Andrew"-

"No, I'm fine," she interrupts.

"Are you sure? What about Dad? I can see if he can drop by for a few minutes," I push.

"Here," I hear her say.

It confuses me. She didn't say "here" as in a "here?" kind of way. In fact, she didn't seem to be talking to me at all.

"Lizzy?" I inquire.

She doesn't answer.

"Moira?"

"Hi honey," a voice replies back. A deep, familiar voice.

"Clark? What are you doing there?"

Don't get me wrong. I want Clark there. I want somebody, anybody, there with my child; but Clark's supposed to be at work. How'd he know where Lizzy was? Did she call him or-

"Well, I um," he clears his throat; the way he does when he thinks I'm going to be mad at him.

"Clark?" I ask with a frown, while shooing my nephew away. He's still standing in front of me with that same smirk on his face. He doesn't take the hint; he gets the hint, but he doesn't take it. Instead of going away, he wraps an arm around my waist and leans in as close to my phone as he possibly can, not even hiding the fact that he's trying to listen in on my phone conversation. I turn a little; but it's no use. He turns with me.

"I was just asking her a few questions," my husband finally answers.

"A few questions like what?" I ask suspiciously.

"Don't be mad," he starts off; and it really makes it hard for me to do as he says. If he has to warn me not to be mad, chances are he's done something to make me mad and is asking for forgiveness upfront.

"You're stalling," I tell him while switching my phone to my other ear. It's a little weird, using the other side; but it's even weirder having my nephew listen in.

Sammy finally takes the hint, and moves to stand in front of me with that ever present smirk on his face. He's just like Lois, or Oliver, I don't know which one at this point. He seems to have taken both of his parents' personalities and fused them together.

"I just wanted to know more about this Greg guy," Clark says. He doesn't have to say more than that. I get why he asked me not to get mad. And I'm trying my hardest not to be. He's taking advantage of her, of Moira. He knows that he can't wheedle anything out of the other kids; not even Casey. She may tell her father everything; but she's surprisingly loyal to her friends _and _she's good at keeping secrets for them. Maddie may not be her friend per se; but it doesn't matter because the woman practically _is _family.

Moira, on the other hand, will give in to her father if he pushes hard enough. And hard enough isn't exactly _hard_ to do. If done right, any person can guilt trip Moira into doing or revealing almost anything; especially a person like me or my husband. She gives in to us way too easily; like this morning, when she asked if she could get her hair cut and I gave her a firm no. _Jonathan_ would've put up more of a fight than she did; and like her, he hardly ever gives us any trouble. But if he thinks something's not right, or unfair, he _will_ speak up.

Moira didn't, doesn't. I could tell she was angry with her father for not siding with her; and when he asked her if she understood why she couldn't get her hair cut, I could tell she wanted to tell him no; but she didn't. She told him that she understood, made herself smile for him; and then kissed me goodbye without the slightest bit of hesitation. It made me feel bad; no, it actually hurt to see her give in so quickly while wearing that forced smile…because she was right. She was absolutely right. A few minutes of green kryptonite wouldn't kill her. And it's something she really wants. I was just being selfish. She's had so many encounters with kryptonite and they've been painful for me to just witness; so the thought of standing by and watching my child doubled over in pain just so she can get her hair cut was a thought I wanted to keep here, in my head, as just a thought.

Not anymore. Of course I don't want to purposely hurt Moira; but I think I'm hurting her more by not showing her that I believe in her.

Tonight, if she still wants her hair cut, I'll do it. I wish Clark could, not that he wouldn't do it. He'd suffer through a few minutes of kryptonite induced pain with his daughter; but I really don't think it's necessary to hurt them both. Plus, I'm her mother. I need to be there for her. It'll probably mean a lot to her if I did it myself.

"So, you've forgiven me?" my husband asks, interrupting my thoughts. I almost forgot that my husband is at an elementary school, trying to swindle information out of our daughter; and not the one who actually attends the aforementioned elementary school.

"Why didn't you just ask Noley about Greg," I ask him conversationally.

Really, I'm testing him. Noley's not as easy as Moira. She can keep a secret; but if bribed with something she really wants, she'll spill. Then she uses the "I'm only seven" line; though she'll have to amp it up to "eight" now. Her birthday was last month.

"I did. Her lips are sealed," he answers truthfully.

That's when I fully understand why he asked me not to be mad. I get it now. He went to Noley's school, probably bribed her with the idea of skipping the rest of her lessons and bringing her to the mall himself after stopping by the ice cream shop in exchange for a bit of information about Greg. She declined; naturally. Any of my other kids would've loved that at her age; but Noley's not like the others. She loves school. She loves everything about it. Turning down her father's offer was easy.

He probably went outside afterward and saw Moira, all alone, and waiting for her sister. I can picture her there. She probably doesn't have any homework. It is the first day of school after all, but I imagine she was reading a book when her father approached her.

"Clark! You should be ashamed of yourself," I chastise him while reconsidering the idea of him not being there when I cut Moira's hair. I think he may need to be there. Show his daughter some support and all that jazz.

"She didn't tell me anything yet," he rebuttals as if it will get him out of trouble. And It might've…if he hadn't added the "yet" part. That lets me know that he plans on sticking around a little longer to harass my, our, child.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" I ask him.

"Lois isn't at work; she took the day off to shop with you. Why can't I take an hour off to spend with my daughter?" he asks.

He's being a smartass.

But he's also telling me an alarming truth. He's going to badger my daughter for an hour? She'll definitely crack! Then she'll feel guilty for days. How can he possibly be okay with doing that to her?

"Clark! If you"-

"What? I would've thought you'd be happy that I'm waiting here with Lizzy. This way, she's not alone," he cuts me off.

He's amused. I can hear it in his voice. But I'm not. This is the kind of psychological torture that I hate. Do I let my husband stay with our child, just so that I'm sure she's safe from harm; or do I make him go, leaving her all alone but rescuing her from him at the same time?

I honestly don't know which one to choose.

"Put Lizzy on the phone," I tell him with a sigh.

"Chloe?"

"What?" I nearly snap at him.

"I love you," my husband tells me.

I don't want to, but I melt a little inside. He can just be telling me that so I won't be as mad at him as I should be; and I want to be mad at him for _that_, but I can't. I can't let him go without letting him know that I love him too. I never let him go without telling him that I love him. I learned a long time ago that there's always a chance he won't come home to me.

"I love you too, Clark," I say while turning away from my nephew. His smirk has gotten bigger, cockier. He likes it when my husband wins. I think it's a guy thing; they have to stick together or something.

I can hear the smile in Clark's voice when he says, "Mama wants you Sweet Pea," before handing over the phone. That amuses him too. The fact that Moira still calls me Mama. None of my other children do. Noley slips up and calls me Mommy sometimes; but she tries her hardest not to be the baby. I think she feels really far behind because I had her so much later than the others; not much later, but everyone else is in high school while she's not even halfway done with elementary yet.

"Hello?" Lizzy answers.

"It's up to you baby. Do you want Daddy to stay there with you?"

Okay. So I _have _made my decision. I think Lizzy will be fine there alone for a few minutes. I'll just call to check up on her every few minutes.

"No, I'll be fine Mama," my daughter answers. I can tell she's embarrassed; I can hear it in her voice. And I was expecting it. In fact, I did it on purpose. Moira may call me Mama; but if I refer to her father as "Daddy" it makes her feel like a little girl.

"Are you sure?" I ask while smiling smugly at my nephew. It's immature; I know, but I do it anyway. I like it when things go my way.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay, I'll call to check up on you in a few minutes."

"You don't have to, Mama."

"Fifteen minutes?" I negotiate. A few minutes, three minutes, from now might be a little too soon.

"I guess," she says with a sigh. She probably realizes it's the best I'm able to do. Poor kid.

"Okay, put your father back on the phone."

"He already left," she tells me.

I thought I heard him kiss her goodbye, but I wasn't sure.

"Okay, I'll call you back in a few minutes Sweetie."

"Fifteen right?"

I laugh at her. "Fifteen minutes," I agree.

"Just making sure."

"I love you baby."

"I love you too Mama; bye."

When I hang up I'm still smiling; until I realize my nephew is still here.

"What?"

"Red has a boyfriend," he says without preamble.

"Seriously Sammy, what do you want?" I ask him.

"Red has a boyfriend," he repeats.

I eye him suspiciously for a few seconds; but he doesn't say that he's just kidding.

It makes me frown.

"What makes you think Lizzy has a boyfriend?" I ask him.

"Ask John," he shrugs before walking off.

That's just like him to stay around when I want him to go away; but then the minute I need him to stick around to explain a few things to me, he walks off.

I follow him; but not because of what he just said. I would've done it anyway because everyone else is leaving the store. I don't even know if anything was bought here or not.

I catch up to my family easily, they may be a quick bunch, but Mikey's not as fast. And he won't let anyone carry him because he's Superman, and superman carries other people. Not the other way around.

"So, how was school?" I ask my children as I walk beside them. Sammy smirks at me…again. I'm fishing for information, and I'm trying to be inconspicuous about it.

"Fine."

That's the answer my three children give me. It's usually their answer to that question; but for different reasons. "Fine" for Jonathan and Moira means that no one got hurt, "fine" for Casey means she didn't get into any trouble and "fine from Noley and Andrew is a lie; their days are always eventful.

"So what happened in school today?" I reword the question.

"Do you _already_ know something Mom, or are you fishing for any ole' thing; because I'd rather only tell you what you already know," Andrew says.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I get it," he continues. "Principal Jip left a brief message on your phone and I'll be in less trouble if you hear what happened from me first, right?"

'_Principal? It's the first day of school and…I'm surprised because?'_

"First, let me say that it was _not_ my fault," Andrew stops me by placing both hands on my shoulders, and stares me straight in the eyes as if he's trying to hypnotize me.

I cross my arms over my chest.

"It wasn't your fault?"

"That's right, it wasn't my fault. I can't help it if I'm way faster than the other kids. It's a curse that's been set upon me since my time in your womb because _you _and Dad did that thing you guys like to do," he starts off.

"Continue," I tell him while trying to keep my face stern. It's really hard. Everyone else is either snickering into their hands or trying their hardest to keep from laughing; everyone except Mikey of course. It's not fair, I just want to laugh along with them but I can't. I have to be the responsible parent and deal with my son.

Andrew smiles at me before continuing. "So, this _guy_, he kinda said something I didn't like, so I just kinda _retaliated_."

"How?"

"I might've embarrassed him a little."

"By doing what to him?"

He sighs deeply before embracing me; making sure that his chin is resting on shoulder.

I sigh deeply as well. I know what's coming.

"Mommy, don't be mad at me okay? I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."

I want to laugh and cry and be angry with him all at once. I know he's playing me on purpose right now; but when one of my children calls me Mommy, even with a voice as deep as Andrew's is, I can't help but to think of him or her as a baby. You can't be mad at a baby, especially one who's hugging you and asking for forgiveness.

"What'd you do?" I sigh.

I can feel him smile against my neck and I roll my eyes; but I still can't seem to prepare myself to be angry with him. I know, I'm the worst mother on the face of the earth.

Andrew straightens himself up; but not to his full height. He's a little taller than me; but with the way he's slouching a little to make himself look smaller, it puts him at my height.

"I pulled his pants down in front of everyone," he says with a bit of a pout.

"Andrew Blake," I sigh while rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. I guess I subconsciously know that I'm about to get a headache and I'm trying to appease it before it starts.

"Are you gonna tell Dad?" he asks me.

The answer is yes; but the children have learned a thing or two about me and my husband; and that thing happens to be that the amount of trouble they get into depends on how I feel about what they did. In other words, the angrier I am about the offense the harsher their father's punishment for them; and right now, I really don't know how I feel about what Andrew did. I mean, it was a bad thing of course; but I don't know. I need more information.

"Were you seen?" I ask him. He mentioned being way faster than the other kids in his little speech before. I'm pretty sure that's how he got the poor boy's pants down.

"No," my son tells me.

I have to keep my eyes averted because he looks so much like Clark right now. He doesn't usually. He looks more like me most of the time; but there's this face he makes when he doesn't want to get into trouble and he happens to look _just_ like Clark when he does it.

"Then why did you have to see the principal?" I ask him. If he wasn't caught in the act then how'd he get, well, caught?

"I might've said something inappropriate; and the principal might've walked by and heard it," Andrew tells me before sneaking a glance at Casey.

I look around as well. I'm not surprised by the fact that we've stopped in the middle of the walkway to congregate, but not one of the shoppers seems to be interested in why. They just keep walking. We don't interest them. If we were in the Smallville mall, we would have an audience.

"What'd you say?" I groan after seeing the way Casey is looking down at the floor.

"It wouldn't make much sense unless you knew what_ he_ said first."

"What did _he_ say first?"

"He said…something about the um, girls."

"Something like what?"

He doesn't answer; and I can tell he's not going to either. I look to Jonathan; but he's not looking my way; and Casey still hasn't taken her eyes off of the floor.

"Sammy?" I inquire.

"I don't know what he's talking about," my nephew answers with a shrug.

"Samuel Queen, you answer your auntie right now!" Lois orders.

"But they didn't answer; and they're her _children_," Sammy says with a tone in his voice that suggests we aren't being fair to him.

He has a point. That wasn't very fair of me.

"Yes, but you are _my _child; and those are _my_ nieces, and_ I_ want an answer, now!" she barks.

I feel like I should tell my cousin that it's okay; and that he doesn't have to say anything; but I really want to know what's going on. Plus, Lois was telling the truth. My girls may not be her nieces per se; but if you tell her otherwise you might end up picking your teeth up off the ground. Literally. I'm sure she really wants to know what this guy said about her family.

"Fine, the guy was talking to his friends about Casey in the hallway"-

"What was he saying about her?" Lois butts in before I can.

"He was saying that she's…_developed_..."

I look at my daughter. Not only is she not looking back at me, but her face is completely crimson. I knew this was going to be a problem. I knew it when she was still in elementary school and had developed more than her older sister.

"Then he said he wouldn't mind the other "Kent Chick" either because she may be quiet and shy but everyone knows that the shy girls are the ones who"-

"Okay, I get it," I interrupt. I do. I get it. Boys are interested in my girls; but I honestly don't think I'm ready to hear what he was about to say about shy girls.

"So, Andrew pulled his pants down and told the guy that his sisters wouldn't be very uh…_impressed_ by him," Sammy finishes.

I want to laugh; but I don't because my phone rings. I answer it immediately because it's Moira. It's been fifteen minutes and I forgot to call her.

"Lizzy are you okay?" I ask as soon as I press the receiving button on my phone.

"Fine," she says, letting me know that she's not hurt.

"Is something wrong?" I ask immediately, again rewording my question but practically asking the same thing.

"Um, no. J-just checking in. It's um, it's been fifteen minutes."

She's stuttering. Not good.

"I'm sending Jonathan, okay?"

"No, Mama, I'm fine. I just…"

"Just what?"

"Is that your mother?" I hear someone, a guy, say in the background.

She covers the mouthpiece on her phone up before answering him. I can't really hear her too well; but I think she just told him to shut up.

"Lizzy? Is someone bothering you?" I ask.

"No. I'm just"-

She doesn't finish her sentence; just covers up the mouthpiece on her phone again, but not before I hear her swear. It shocks me, and I pull my phone away from my ear and gap at it. Moira never swears. I've never even hear her say "hell" before.

"Mama, you still there?"

"I um,"

I clear my throat. Great, now _I'm_ stuttering.

"Mama?"

"I'm sending Jonathan," I tell her. It's not an option anymore. I make eye contact with my oldest son, and make a shooing signal with my hand to him. He understands and he leaves immediately.

"You don't have to"-

"He's already on his way," I interrupt. I can still see him, it's not like he can superspeed off yet. We're still in a mall full of people after all. But he'll be there soon.

"Okay, bye," she says. That's it. She hangs up before I can say anything else; like tell her that I love her again. I know it's a bit excessive; but that's our departing line for phone calls; "I love you," "I love you too, bye".

Always.

Not, "Okay, bye." Click.

I turn to my nephew, almost angrily. It's not his fault; but I can't help it. "Tell me why you think Moira has a boyfriend," I command.

He looks startled; and he's not the only one. In my thoughts, my daughter is Moira. Out loud I call her Lizzy. If I call her Moira out loud, it's usually not good.

"Whoa, wait; Red has a boyfriend; and you know about it; and you didn't say anything?" Lois asks her son.

He doesn't seem as smug as before when he answers his mother with a weak shrug.

"He's probably not her _boyfriend_ boyfriend, he's the new kid," Sammy supplies.

"New kid?" Lois and I frown.

"Ahh, I heard about that," Andrew supplies.

I look to him. I realize he's just relieved that my focus is on something other than what he should be in trouble for; but I'd gladly forget it for a bit of information right now.

"Tell me what you know," I tell my son.

"I don't know Mom, I can't think straight. I'm still a little nervous about the"-

"Fine, I won't tell Dad, just tell me what I want to know," I quickly compromise.

Andrew smiles.

"No smiling; talk," I tell him.

"Right, so we got a new kid in today. Heath….Something. And Mr. Reynolds assigned Lizzy to be his chaperone so to speak. So she's chaperoning, and all the girls in the school decide they want to get to know him. They like his hair, his clothes, his ass"-

"Andrew!"

"Their words Mom; definitely their words and not mine; so, they like this Heath guy; but he doesn't like them back. Not one. He doesn't talk to anyone but Lizzy. And during lunch, he sits next to Lizzy; but not just next to her, he's practically in her lap."-

"Really?" Lois jumps in. Her tone is one of intrigue. I can understand it. A mysterious new kid who's got all the girls talking but seems to only have eyes for her niece, her shy niece. I'll bet she's just full of pride…and questions for my child.

"Yep," Andrew answers her.

"Is that it?" I ask.

"Yep," Andrew says again; but I wasn't talking to him.

"Not you, Casey," I clarify while watching my daughter who refuses to look at any other place but the floor and her fingernails.

She sighs and shrugs.

"Casey?"

"I guess," she says.

"You guess?"

"Yeah, I guess."

I take a deep breath. I'm getting so tired of her bad attitude. She hasn't always been this way; and it's starting to really irk me. I've been trying to be understanding, thinking it's just some kind of teenage girl thing; but it's really hard. Especially when I already have a teenage daughter who _isn't_ doing the teenage girl thing. Well, at least I thought she wasn't. Now I'm not so sure. I'm starting to think it was this Heath guy that she was talking to while she was on the phone with me, the one who made her swear.

Speaking of Moira, Jonathan should be with her by now. And he should've called me.

I pull out my phone, ready to call him; but as I glance around, I catch sight of my youngest child, Noley; and she's making her way toward me…alone.

Not good.

"Hi Mom," she greets me excitedly. "You won't believe how much happened today! I only had to leave the classroom twice, not even to go all the way to the principal's office; just stand outside the classroom; and one of those times wasn't even _my_ fault. Okay, it was my fault a little but"-

"Noley, slow down," I chuckle nervously. "Where's Jonathan and Lizzy? They were supposed to wait for you."

"Really? I didn't see Lizzy; just Johnny. He told me to go ahead without him."

I don't get a good feeling from that. Not a good feeling at all. In fact, my hands are shaking so bad that I can't call my son.

"Here Mom, I'll do it," Andrew offers seriously while taking my phone. I'm glad he's done it; but at the same time I wish I had the phone in my hand again. I don't know what to do with them while they're empty, so I settle for folding my arms across my chest. I don't look at anyone, especially not my cousin. I don't know if she feels like I'm paranoid or if she's genuinely worried about my daughter. Either one is a bad thing in my opinion.

"He's looking for her," Andrew says when he gets off the phone.

I hope he's joking. It would be just like him to play on my worries and fears; but at the same time, if he _is_ just joking I'll be extremely mad at him.

"You should call Dad. I'll help John look for her," he says before turning away.

"Wait!" Noley calls before her brother can speed away.

"What?"

"What can I do?"

"You keep calling Lizzy's phone until she picks up," he commands, quickly thinking on his feet.

"What if she doesn't answer?"

"Of course she'll answer," Andrew answers with a wink and a ruffle of Noley's hair; but he's looking at me, trying to assure me that there's nothing to worry about; that my daughter's fine.

I try to smile back at him; but I hear Lois say, "I'll call Clark."

Clark. Not Smallville.

This is bad.

This is serious.


	6. Chapter 6

**Anonymous, Madlenita, and Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Lilbit4: **Well, you don't need to go on strike because if it's more Jo'an you want, I understand captaintightpants12 has been writing a story called "Kill Me or Kiss Me," and he's got plenty of Jo'an moments in that story. You should check it out. It might make you feel better; give you that Jo'an fix you want so bad;)

**The fallen sky: **Lol, Chloe is obsessing over her children's safety; but you can blame that on the nightmares; and the fact that she's probably had a few close calls with them and "Superman" over the past few years.

You know, I never thought anything of the Sammy/Chloe thing; it was kinda like a "sidehug" type thing. Those are appropriate if done "uncreepily" lol. Anyway, my brothers act that way with my aunt. I don't, and neither do my sisters; so I kinda figured it was a guy thing. Plus, I think Sammy and Chloe have a good relationship. Like Moira, he still uses a baby word. He may not call his mom "Mama," but he does refer to his Aunt as "Auntie;" and he lets Chloe get away with calling him "Sammy"; even though he wants to be called Sam now.

Lol, it's just like Lois to be impressed by the fact that Lizzy may have a boyfriend, isn't it?

Ah, Heath and Lizzy, Moira and Jeremiah, Tracker and Mosey. It's a good mystery isn't it;) Since this chapter's from Moira's POV, you'll get to learn more about them. And I think you might have exaggerated a bit. I'm glad you like the Kent kids; but I don't honestly believe they're the best OCs. You're just trying to butter me up so that I'll write another godforsaken sequel;)

**Nakala: **Lol. Something like that

**Dizzy78: **Thanks! I'm glad, I like Sammy too. I think he's a riot. As for the rest of that stuff, you'll just have to see;)

**Shonnia22: **Thank you! Lol. I'm glad you don't know who you like better. It's a good thing. Oh, I can't tell you where Lizzy is, you'll just have to wait;)

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I open my eyes slowly, and for the second time in one day I realize I'm not in my own bed; but I realize it faster this time. I'm on my back, and the fact that I'm not looking up at the bottom of Noley's mattress is what clues me in. It may sound like I sleep under my sister's bed, and technically it's true; but I don't sleep on the floor. Noley and I share a bunk bed. She sleeps on the top bunk; I've got the bottom. I'm probably too old for it, but it's not like three beds can fit into our room. My sisters and I may share the master bedroom, but it's still not big enough for three separate beds.

Casey sleeps on the other side of the room, in a separate bed. It should be my bed because I'm the oldest, but she wanted it so she got it. It doesn't really matter to me. It's just a bed. Plus, I think it was a good move. My sisters don't get along too well. If they had to share "sleep space" I think I'd only have one sister by now. I wouldn't want that. I love both of my sisters. I wouldn't want one to leave me.

"You up, baby girl?"

I try to sit up quickly at the sound of her familiar voice; but in doing so I discover that I'm actually not feeling too hot.

"Miss Morgan?" I whimper like a baby. I feel queasy, and nauseous, and sick, and every other word that means my head is spinning, my whole body's trembling, I'm sweating buckets, my stomach hurts, and I want to throw up. Oh, and cry. I really, _really,_ want to cry.

I feel the bed dip beside me and I know she's going to hold me even before she does it.

I feel a little better when she begins to rock me a little while whispering," You're okay baby girl" over and over again.

She's called me that ever since I was little. I always liked it. It was kinda neat. My mom always calls me baby, and Miss Morgan adding the "girl" at the end kinda made it even more special. I don't know why I thought so; _still _think so. I just know that I like it when she does it. It's kinda familiar; like she's been doing it for way longer than eight years.

"You're supposed to stay away," she murmurs against my hair.

I already don't feel good; so hearing her say that to me just makes me worse.

I start to cry. It was different when Jeremiah said it. He doesn't like me very much, and I don't think I like him very much either; so for him to tell me not to come over anymore was nothing. He's said worse to me before; but to hear _her_ say it. It hurts. It really, _really_, hurts.

"Why?" I sob.

She doesn't answer me. It's because I know why; well, I sort of know why; but I don't think I know enough.

"You're such a whining brat."

I open my eyes at the sound of Jeremiah's voice. I don't like to cry in front of him, I don't like to do anything around him. I don't even like to _be_ around him because he's always got such a foul attitude. He makes Casey seem cavity making sweet; it's probably why she doesn't get under my skin any. Jeremiah already resides there.

"What do you want?" I practically glare at him; but it's not really a glare. It's more of a grimace and a whimper.

His mother gets up. It makes me sad…and mad. She's going to leave me here with him.

"Watch her until I get back," she says to him before closing the door behind her. She didn't wait for a confirmation. Jeremiah always watches me. It's just like being at home. My mom always says, "watch her" to one of my siblings, mostly Johnny, before leaving me alone. Not that I'm ever alone. I think she thinks I'm alone if she's not with me; which I don't mind so much. I like being with my mother. I just don't like to be a bother; just in case she decides she doesn't want to take me on as a responsibility any longer. I'm sure that probably won't happen, she's never given me a reason to believe she would do such a thing. In fact, she actually acts the opposite way. She acts like I'm really special to her. It should make me feel good; but I can't help but to be afraid that she's overcompensating for the guilt she feels.

"Do you want to take a look at Fluffy? He's shed since you last seen him; which means he's gotten bigger," Jeremiah says, interrupting my thoughts abruptly.

I shake my head weakly. I don't want to see a snake, _any _snake, right now. He knows that.

"What time is it?" I ask while closing my eyes. I wish his mother would come back already. I really need her; not him. He'll only make me feel worse.

"It's 5:30pm your time," he tells me.

See, I knew I'd be feeling worse. Why couldn't he lie to me? Why'd he have to let me know that I've been out for nearly three hours? My mom is going to freak out on me. She'll probably even kill me. Not on purpose, I just don't see her remembering to let go of my neck any time soon. But then she'd have to have a piece of kryptonite on her in order for the strangling to have any merit, so yeah, it would be on purpose.

"I have to get home," I mumble before making an effort to sit up and failing miserably.

"Go ahead; and try to remember to stay away this time," he says with a roll of his eyes.

I know what he's thinking. I can't go anywhere. I can't even sit up straight.

"Will you take me home, Tracker. Please?" I whimper. Trust me; it's not to get him to feel sorry for me. I can't seem to say anything with a sturdy voice right now.

"Of course not," he says sweetly.

It gives me the creeps a little. Yes, it was heavy duty sarcasm; but at the same time, I'm not used to him using that tone of voice.

"But why?"

He sits down beside me and tugs on a bit of my hair, bringing the end up to my face.

I hear him say something about not being ready to meet my family just yet; but I'm not listening to him. I think I'm in a mild form of shock as I stare at my hair in absolute horror. I'm already in enough trouble as it is; and now my hair's been cut? My mom told me no! I _told_ Jeremiah that! Which is probably why he did it; but still…

"Why'd you cut it," I sob. All the efforts I made to keep from crying in front of him just flew out the window. Not only is my mother going to be upset with me for going behind her back, but I wanted _her_ to cut my hair. At least the first time.

I reach a trembling hand up to my face and take hold of the hair Jeremiah's holding. It's not too short; but it's short enough to notice the change immediately. From what I can tell, it still falls down my back; but it probably stops where my bra straps end.

"You got me in trouble," he answers simply.

I don't even look at him. I'm still staring at my hair…and crying; but he's right. I did get him into trouble.

I was at Noley's school, and my father had just left, and I wasn't supposed to do it; but my mother gave me fifteen minutes. That was plenty of time to visit Miss Morgan and ask her why I wasn't allowed to come over anymore. I was gonna come back immediately; but things didn't work out that way. I got sidetracked by Jeremiah. He was watching me from across the street.

"Stay away," he signed to me before walking off.

I hate that he knew what I was planning. Miss Morgan says I'm fairly easy to predict; and she's probably right. But I wish Jeremiah was like a normal, clueless, guy who didn't pay enough attention to me to be able to predict me. That's how he got the name Tracker from me. I never call him Jeremiah, not out loud at least. It wasn't supposed to be flattering. And now it just suits him. He can always find me no matter where I am; not that I'm allowed to go many places by myself; just Maddie's; but when I do, he always seems to know, and it irritates me. Not sneaking away from Maddie's to visit Miss Morgan; I don't know how many times I've done that while Maddie was sleeping; that's not what irritates me. What irritates me is the fact that Jeremiah always seems to know when and when I'm not available.

When he told me to stay away, it made me mad so I followed him. I argued at him, telling him that I was old enough to know what was going on; old enough to be left alone for more than fifteen minutes at a time; old enough to get my hair cut…

That's where he stopped me. He was confused and I didn't blame him. Somehow I turned the argument into a venting session. All the frustrations I felt toward my parents and their inability to treat me like I'm old enough to handle certain situations had somehow gotten dumped into Jeremiah's lap. That's how I got hurt. I was so distracted that I hadn't even noticed the time. It'd been more than fifteen minutes so I called my mother to check in. Unfortunately for me, Jeremiah didn't feel the need to keep his mouth shut while I was talking to her. I tried to cover up my phone and keep him quiet, but I think she knew something was up. She told me she was sending Johnny after me. I pretty much hung up on her then. I knew she would be mad about that; but I really had to get back to the school. We'd kinda wondered off. We were still in Kansas, but we were still pretty far; just not far enough to get away from a kryptonite infected snake.

I've never been bitten by a snake before. Their fangs don't penetrate my skin. Well, Fluffy's bitten me a few times, but he broke his fangs while doing so. This time, with _this _snake, there was definitely penetration.

I don't remember much after that. I remember Jeremiah picking me up; and I remember him muttering something about stupid little girls, and then I don't remember anymore after that. I'm assuming he ran me over here to his place and that's how he got into trouble; because I'm not supposed to be here anymore.

"So what's your _mama_ going to do about your hair being cut?" Jeremiah asks me after I've _almost _stopped crying.

"Kill me," I whimper.

"That's good. You'll probably be grounded for a good while; maybe even a few months now that you've been missing for a few hours, right?"

I shut my eyes and let my hair slip between my fingers. I'd forgotten about that. I need to get home. Now.

"That's good; it's just what Morgan wants," he tells me matter-of-factly; correctly interpreting my reaction to his statement as the answer to his question.

I know what he means. With what happened to me today, my family will be keeping an eye on my _every_ move. There's no way I'll be able to sneak away. No way at all. I'll have to stay away from here, just like Miss Morgan wants; and by the time my family eases up on me, she'll be gone. They move around a lot; but they usually tell me where they're going next.

I don't think they're going to tell me this time.

I can feel a tear leak out the corner of my eye without my permission. How long am I supposed to stay away? Weeks? Months? If it's years or longer than that, I don't know what I'm gonna do.

"Stop crying," Jeremiah tells me.

I can hear the irritation in his voice. It's very subtle, but I can still hear it.

I try to turn over. I don't think I can stop crying; and if it bothers him so bad then maybe he shouldn't look at me. But turning over's really hard.

He sighs deeply and helps me, fussing at me the whole time.

"It was just a garden snake," he mumbles. "It wasn't even venomous. If it had been, you'd be in worse shape than this. You'd probably even be dead..."

His words are harsh, implying that I'm weak and a waste of space and all that other stuff; but he's really gentle when he turns me over. I'm not surprised; he's never physically hurt me before; so I know that he doesn't hate me as much as he implies; or maybe he knows his mother wouldn't tolerate it. Either way, he's not nearly as bad as he tries to make himself out to be.

"Tracker?"

"What?"

"Please take me home," I hiccup.

"Don't be stupid," he says.

"But Mama"-

"Is gonna kill you, I know. And I don't care."

Then he gets up; but not quickly. He takes his time leaving. He even shuts the blinds. I don't need them open anymore. The sun's going down. Now it's going to take forever for me to heal.

"Goodnight Mosey," he tells me before shutting the door behind himself.

I don't tell him goodnight back. He's not actually wishing me a goodnight. He's laughing at me; mocking me. Since he's not taking me home, I can't go home until I'm actually feeling well enough to run there myself. Who knows when that will be? It took me three hours of sunlight streaming in through the window in order for me to just gain consciousness. Now that the sun's gone down, it'll probably take about four more hours for me to feel good enough to run. That puts me at a total of seven hours away from my family; without them knowing of my whereabouts; or if I'm still breathing.

I should call them and let them now I'm alright. In fact, I can't believe I didn't think of that the moment I opened my eyes.

"Tracker!" I yell as loud as I can; which is not very loud at all.

He still hears me though. He's in the next bedroom over. His room is always closest to mine. Not that this is "my" room. It's technically the guest bedroom; but they never have guests. Never. Just me. And I always get to decorate the room. So, it's sort of my room; but not technically. It's confusing.

"What?" he says while standing in the doorway. It doesn't look like he plans on coming in any further. He's had enough of me today.

"Where's my phone?"

"In the cellar."

"Why?"

"Because it wouldn't stop ringing. It was driving me insane. _Your family_ was driving me insane"

"Why couldn't you just turn it off?" I roll my eyes at him.

"Because I also wanted to see just how long it would ring," he answers while turning his back on me and leaving.

When he comes back, he has my phone in his hand…and it's still ringing.

I try to snatch it out of his hand because of the look he's giving me; like he thinks my family is nuts; but my motor skills aren't up to par yet, so I end up slapping the phone out of his hand.

He hands it back to me and leaves my room promptly. Not once does he scowl at me for my childish behavior. It irritates me when he tries to act too mature to do things like react to my little tantrums.

I hold my phone in my hand for a few seconds and just stare at it. The ringing doesn't bother me. I'm more afraid of what will happen when the ringing _does_ stop; when I answer it.

I take a deep breath, and then exhale. It doesn't help. I still feel awful. I still feel shaky. I'm still sweating. I still feel clammy; and I was feeling all of that _before_ I picked up my phone. Now, that feeling has tripled.

I take another deep breath; but this time I manage to press the "talk" button before I could lose my nerve.

"Hello?" I answer quietly.

"Lizzy!"

I pull my phone away from my ear. She's so loud. She can't help it. She's usually pretty loud; but right now Noley's voice is physically hurting me.

"Mom! Mommy! She answered. She answered. I got her to answer! I knew she would"-

I hear her shout before my mother takes the phone from her.

"Moira?"

"Hi Mama," I answer quietly. I don't know why. It's not like I'll get her to talk quieter just by doing it myself.

She doesn't say anything. Not for a while. I don't know if she's passed out, or if she's trying to hold in all the bad things she wants to say to me so that I won't be afraid to come home. I suspect it's the latter. I really do.

"Come home. Now," she commands; and her voice is so quiet, so controlled, that I nearly wet my pants. Literally. I may have to get Jeremiah to carry me to the bathroom…because I can't even get up and walk to the bathroom myself…and that means I can't come home.

She's really gonna kill me.

"I um, I can't," I tell her in a small voice.

Another one of those awful silences before she says, "why not?"

I hadn't thought this part through. I don't know what to tell her.

"Not for another three or four hours," I whisper.

I couldn't think of anything else to say. Why not tell my mother something that will totally make her brain explode?

"Three or four"-

"Maybe two," I interrupt.

"Moira Elizabeth, you get your ass…"

I drop my phone on the a-word. Not on purpose, I just…I'm not used to hearing her say it; at least not to me. I mean, _I _say more curse words than she does. And I've only said a few. Well, today makes four.

It takes forever to get my phone. I didn't drop it anywhere far; but I'm so nervous I can't seem to keep a grip on it.

When I finally get my phone back up to my ear, I nearly drop it again. My father's on the phone now. And he's pissed.

"Moira, tell me where you are," he says. He's using the same quiet tone my mother was using before.

I want to hang up so bad; but I don't. Jeremiah's right about me. I'm a coward, I'm weak, I'm a baby, I'm all of those things; because I'd rather hang up and run away than to ever have to face my father again.

"Moira!"

"Yes Daddy?" I jump a little. I can't help it. I'm actually afraid. No one's ever gotten into as much trouble as I am about to get into before. Not even Andrew.

"Where. Are. You?" my father asks.

"I'm…stuck."

"Where?"

"I don't know," I whimper.

My phone flashes, and a message appears that lets me know that my batteries are about to die.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Daddy, my phone's dying," I warn him.

"Moira"-

"I'll see you in a few hours," I say before hanging my phone up and turning my phone off.

I regret it immediately; and I can't believe I did it. I can't believe I hung up on my father. Sure, my phone was gonna die in a minute or two but I didn't wait for that. I couldn't wait much longer. If I'd talked to him for even a few seconds longer I would've told him my exact location; and that would've been bad. Jeremiah and his mother go through a lot of trouble to keep hidden. I mean, _I_ don't even know who they're hiding from. I just know that they are indeed hiding.

I start to cry…again. I'm in such a mess; and I'm so scared. I mean, my father's never hit me before or anything but still…

And my mother, if she's truly not my mother the way I suspect she isn't, will today be the day she decides she doesn't want to put up with me any longer? That I'm too much trouble for her? If she makes that face at me, the one she makes in my nightmares, I don't know what I'll do. I hate that I feel this way. I'd like to think that it's only a dream; but I've had it so often, especially recently, and it's always the same one, the same exact one.

I'm a baby, probably just born, and my mother's at home in bed. I think she's giving birth to Johnny; she looks like she's giving birth anyway. Then my father takes me out of my grandmother's arms and sits beside my mother. That's when she gives me the look. Like she hates me, and I'm the most revolting thing in the world. And that's not all, she screams for my father to "get that thing away from me." Those are her exact words. She called me a thing. And she really hated me. I understand how she'd be feeling if I we're some other woman's child that was forced upon her; but at the same time I was just a baby. I didn't do anything. It wasn't my fault.

I really hate that dream. It hurts me every time it happens. It also made me afraid of my mother. Not afraid of her in a physical sense, just afraid that if I do anything wrong she'll hate me again. It's not like she _had _to take me in; but she did it anyway. So I try my best to keep her happy with me. I do anything she wants me to do…except for today. She wanted me to come home and I didn't do it. Not to mention, I got my hair cut.

"What's wrong with you _now_?" Jeremiah sighs at my doorway.

There's no use in telling him. He already knows how I feel. He knows everything about me. He even about the nightmares; but he doesn't care about that kind of stuff. So I tell him about something he might actually help me with.

"I have to use the bathroom," I sob.

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath before making his way toward me.

"Crying doesn't get you to the bathroom idiot," he says while lifting me up.

Again, harsh words; but very gentle lifting.

I notice something while he's carrying me though. My jeans, or _lack_ of jeans. I'm also wearing one of his t-shirts; my usual sleeping attire; but I really hope Miss Morgan dressed me.

Once inside the bathroom, he sits me on the toilet and leaves…tries to leave. I'm not ready for the sudden lack of support and I nearly topple over. I glare at him when he catches me. Doesn't he remember that I can barely sit up straight on my own?

He doesn't answer my glare; just sighs before helping me out. It's weird, but I don't really have much choice. I really gotta go; and I don't know if I can hold it until his mom gets back.

I'm about to ask him where she is when she makes her presence known.

"I'll take it from here Jeremiah, thank you," she says.

She's standing in the doorway, and I realize the door was never shut. I guess that's a good thing; weird, but understandable at the same time.

"Be my guest," he responds before leaving quickly. It's probably a bit surprising but it wasn't me who made him leave in a hurry; it was his mother. He doesn't get along with her very well.

"How are you feeling?" she asks while helping me up. I sag against her as she walks me back to my bedroom. That's what I like about Miss Morgan. She could carry me; but she's letting me try to walk. She's not treating me like a baby.

I sigh. That's my answer to her question.

"That bad huh," she chuckles a little.

I scowl at her. Nothing's funny. I feel absolutely horrible _and _my parents are gonna kill me.

Once inside my bedroom, she helps me into my bed and slides in beside me.

"It's just for a few weeks," she tells me. I immediately know she's referring to how long it will be until I see her again. But I don't believe her. I've gone weeks without visiting before. It's never been such a big deal to where Jeremiah would come to see me in person, and then try to get me into so much trouble with my parents that they won't let me out of their sight for a while; a _very _long while. Something else is going on.

"You're lying," I tell her flat out.

She smiles at me before telling me that she's not lying.

"Well, you're not telling me _something_," I say.

"You're right," she agrees; but that's all she says. She doesn't elaborate on it. And I don't ask her anything else. I can tell she's not going to _say_ anything else.

"Try to sleep," she tells me. "You'll be able to run home soon afterward."

"I can't sleep," I tell her.

My nerves are shot. I can't even concentrate on _not_ concentrating on all that lies before me long enough _to_ relax and go to sleep.

"Do you need a story?"

I can hear the smile in her voice when she asks me. She's teasing me. No one's told me a story in years. I'm too old for stories.

But I honestly think I'll make the exception today. I don't know what's going on; but I have this feeling that I won't be seeing her for a while. I'd like to spend as much time with her as I can.

"Which one?" I ask.

She doesn't answer me at first. I can tell she's worried about me. I must be all sorts of messed up if I want to hear a story.

She scoots closer to me, wrapping her arms around me tightly before kissing the top of my head.

"You're gonna be okay baby girl. I promise."

I swallow a few times before whispering, "Moses." That's the story I want to hear. It's a very special story to me because it's basically how I met this family.

I was running away because I was upset that I didn't save my friend, Dawn. She died because of me, because I wasn't fast enough, and I was feeling so guilty that I just ran. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, so I ended up getting hurt. I ran into a bush full of kryptonite thorns, fell into a kryptonite infested stream that just popped out of nowhere, and I nearly drowned. But Jeremiah pulled me out of the water. I don't know how he knew I was there. I was pretty much in the middle of nowhere; but like I said, he always seems to know where I am.

He brought me to his mother, told her what happened, and she just smiled at me and said, "just like Moses." I didn't know who Moses was, and I told her so. So, she told me the story of Moses, beginning with the meaning of the name. "Drawn out of the water," is most definitely what happened to me. Jeremiah's been calling me Mosey ever since. Moses was too much of a boy's name. Not that Mosey's any better; but I'm used to it by now.

I fall asleep to the sound of Miss Morgan's voice. The fact that she's pretty much rocking me like a baby helps as well.

It seems like only a few minutes have passed when I open my eyes again; but I can smell dinner being cooked. Obviously, I feel better, much better; but I know it's late. It's probably been more than two hours.

I get out of bed and put my jeans on; but before I change back into my shirt, Jeremiah's in my room again and he's telling me that dinner's ready. I shrug and follow after him. I should probably be in a bigger hurry to get home; but I'm already late, really late. A few more minutes aren't going to hurt. Not after, I check the kitchen clock, six hours. It's 8:30pm my time.

"What's for dinner?" I ask Jeremiah while grabbing a plate out of the cabinet. I'd ask Miss Morgan; but she's not in here for some reason.

"Ask Morgan," Jeremiah shrugs.

"Would it kill you to call her mom sometimes," I snap. I don't understand what his problem is. Miss Morgan is a very nice woman. Why does he constantly give her a hard time?

"She's not my mother," he replies.

I roll my eyes at him. I know he was adopted; but she takes care of him. That's got to count for _something_.

"She's had custody of you since you were two years old, Tracker! How does that _not_ make her your mother?"

"Maybe _you_ should call her Mom then. I know she wants you to. You'd make her day; hell, you'd make her year."

I take a while to answer him. I know he's right. I suspect that in a way Miss Morgan and I may have a not so healthy mother-daughter-ish relationship; but at the end of the day, she's not my mother. I already have one. Maybe Jeremiah's a little jealous of all the attention his adoptive mother gives me; and for that I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to take over or anything. Honest. So I try to reassure him of that by saying, "She's not my mother, Tracker."

"She gave birth to you, Mosey. How does that _not_ make her your mother?"

At first, I'm not sure I heard him right; but then he looks past me and says. "Isn't that right, _Lana_."

I turn around and look at Miss Morgan. I've heard the name Lana before. A long time ago. She was my mom's best friend; she was dad's first girlfriend. I never met her or felt the need to look her up or anything because she died nearly sixteen years ago. She died while giving birth…

I slowly shake my head back and forth as I begin to understand a few things; as I begin to understand that I was right.

I never wanted to be right. I didn't even really expect to be; I thought a lot of kids felt like they ended up with the wrong parents, or had been switched at birth or whatever; but I was indeed right. I am adopted. My mom's not my real mother.

"Baby girl, listen to me. It's not"-

I leave before she can finish her sentence. I run home as fast as I can.

My mom's sitting on the front porch; probably waiting for me. Everyone else is probably still out looking for me.

I stop in front of her. She blinks up at me; but I don't give her any time to adjust to my sudden appearance.

"You didn't want me," I sob. It's not what I wanted to say, but it's the first thing that comes out of my mouth. I guess, subconsciously I realized that "the nightmare" is real. My mom really called me a "thing," and she really hated me.

"Moira!" she exclaims as she jumps up from her seat; but I take a step back.

"You didn't want me," I repeat, not even bothering to wipe my tear streaked face. What's the use? More tears just keep coming.

My mom looks confused. I think she's still really mad at me for making her worry; but she doesn't understand why I'm so upset. _She _should be the one who's upset. I was gone for hours before I even let anyone know I was still alive; and then when I _did_ call to let everyone know that I was ok, I told them that I'd be gone for a few _more_ hours before I hanging up without the smallest bit of explanation. I didn't even let anyone know _where_ I was.

"Moira, what are you talking about? I've always wanted you," my mom says while subtly inching closer to me.

"No you didn't. Not at first," I clarify for her.

"Moira"-

"I _remember_," I add on; just in case she wants to keep pretending like she doesn't know what I'm talking about. "You didn't want me. You told Dad to keep me away from you. You called me a _thing, _Mama," I accuse.

Guilt. That's the look on my mother's face right now. It makes me cry even harder. I was right. I was really right. She really did say that about me. She really didn't want me. For the last minute or so I just knew I was right; that it was true. There was almost no doubt in my mind; but the look on my mother's face confirming everything I figured out as the truth is something I couldn't prepare for. I was still kind of hoping I was wrong.

"Can I go to bed?" I ask her.

She looks like she doesn't want me to anywhere. She looks like she wants to hold me. She looks like she wants to talk; but I really, really, don't want to talk. I just want to go to sleep. I realize I _just _woke up; but I'm feeling really tired right now.

"Mama, please," I beg.

She swallows a little before stepping to the side. I nearly make it into the house when someone grabs my upper arm.

My dad.

"I don't think so," he practically growls at me.

I can feel my eyes nearly pop out of my sockets as I place a hand over his. I know I'm not strong enough to get him to let go, but I'll settle for him loosening his grip.

"Clark, you're hurting her. Let her go," my mom says.

My dad loosens his hold on me immediately; but he doesn't let me go.

I can tell he's about to chew mw out really good; but at this very moment I don't care. He can yell at me, he can ground me for life; it doesn't matter. I don't want to ever come out of my room again.

"Clark, let her go," my mom says again.

He looks at her as if she's lost her mind. He doesn't want to let me go. I should be punished for what I did; for what I put everyone through.

"Go upstairs," she tells me.

I hesitate, and look up at my father, making sure it's truly okay. I mean, he's still holding onto my arm; just not as tight as he was before.

"Go," she says a little more forcefully.

I remove my arm from my father's grasp. He lets me; then I run upstairs.

I can hear them start to argue but I tune out immediately. I don't want to hear what they have to say about me.

"And the prodigal daughter returns," Casey says as soon as I enter my bedroom.

She's lying down on her stomach and flipping through a magazine as if she doesn't have a care in the world. She doesn't even look my way. I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't a part of the search party for me.

"You should change your shirt before the parents realize it doesn't belong to you, or John, or Andrew, or Sammy or"-

I take the shirt off and toss it her way. She catches it with a smirk and shoves it under her bed. Then she sits up and gives me her full attention.

"Who's Fluffy?" she signs to me.

She hasn't signed to me in so long that I thought she'd forgotten how to do it.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" I sign back.

She doesn't answer; and I know why. I can hear my other siblings come through the door.

"No signing around John. He learned," she signs quickly.

"How?" I sign back just as fast.

"Saw you signing to Heath and spent all day learning it."

"Why?"

"Thinks you're lying. Thinks you didn't meet him today. Thinks you've known him longer," she rushes before lying back down to look through her magazine just as my brothers and sister burst through the bedroom door.

My brothers leave immediately as I'm still shirtless; but Noley could care less. She tackles me to the ground. And since I'm not one hundred percent better from the snake bite, it knocks the wind out of me.

She starts talking, going a mile a minute. I don't even know what she's talking about. I think she's naming every city she looked for me in. She doesn't even realize that I'm not responding to her, that my eyes are closed, and that I'm very close to tears.

Remembering the snake bite is also bringing everything else back to me. The Lana thing, the dream that's not really a dream, everything. Plus, my parents are still downstairs.

I had them tuned out before; but now I can hear them; and they're arguing about me. It's not like their regular arguments. My dad is furious with my mother. He thinks I should be disciplined now, and that they shouldn't wait until morning. But my mom's being stubborn. And now he's telling her that she can't "play" favorites; that if any of the other children did what I did she wouldn't hesitate to discipline them. Then he brings up the fact that my hair's been cut.

I almost forgot about that.

Gently, I push my sister off of me; and head for the shower. She follows behind me, still talking about whatever she's talking about; but I tell her to go to bed. It's a school night. I half expect her to tell me that she doesn't have to listen to me because I'm not her mother; but she doesn't. She tells me goodnight and leaves.

After my shower, I don't go back to my bedroom. I go outside, to my brothers' room. My parents are still arguing, and I just don't feel like being in the house any longer.

"Dad's gonna be upset with you for leaving the house," Johnny says when he sees me; but he doesn't turn me away. He gets out of bed and lets me lie down.

"Where's Andrew?" I ask him.

"Metropolis."

Metropolis means that he's with Sammy. It also means Johnny can sleep in Andrew's bed if he wants; but he doesn't. I feel bad when he pulls his chair up beside the bed and sits down before grabbing my hand in his. I don't want my brother to have to sleep in a chair; but I feel like crap. Sleeping next to Johnny always makes me feel better. It has since before I can even remember.


	7. Chapter 7

**Dizzy78: **Lol. No, Clark took Lana to the hospital; but he wasn't there when she died. Lois and Charlie were;)

**The fallen sky: **DAMN! That's a long ass review. Even from you! Lol.

Just to clear up the Sammy smirking thing. It was more of a, "I know something you don't know" kind of smirk. Get your mind out of the gutter. Oh wait, I _am _talking to you, aren't I?;)

Lol. You're right. Some of your questions were answered; but I made sure to raise a lot more questions. Gotta keep you on your toes. And it looks like I've managed to do so successfully. Yay me!

I loved reading your review. You were just jumping from topic to topic and you asked about 25 questions. Probably literally. In fact, more than likely literally.

Let's see. Yes Casey's still the b-word. She can't help it. There's actually a simple answer to that one.

Noley. Lol. Have you ever seen Ramona and Beezus with Selena Gomez and Joey King? I shouldn't have; but my godchildren are still young so going to the movies you have to be prepared to watch something rated pg. Anyway, I kind of modeled Noley after Romano. I remember reading the books when I was in elementary, and she's such an interesting character that I couldn't help myself.

Johnny. I'm glad you got to see that he wasn't as fooled about "Heath" as you thought he was. Johnny's a little more stealth than Andrew. Andrew probably would've been a little more upfront. Johnny's not like that.

I'd add more; but I gotta go to work soon, and I really want to post this before I go;)

**Madlenita, and Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Shonnia22: **Lol. Yeah things got pretty bad pretty fast; but there's always time to make it better….if I wasn't me.

**Sheshe21: **It's funny that there are so many similarities between you and Lizzy; but I swear I'm not stalking you;) I'm really glad you're enjoying this. Thank you for the review and the laugh. Yes, you made me laugh;)

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I've been lying in bed for hours; just lying here without the slightest hope that I'll be able to get any sleep. I look up at the Clock and sigh. It's nearly three thirty in the morning. It's too late for Clark to still be out; but he is. And it's way too early for me to get up; but I do it anyway. I get out of bed because I don't like being alone; and I'm alone because Clark is mad at me.

I'm not surprised. In fact; I'd be surprised if he _wasn't _upset with me. He doesn't understand why I let Moira go straight to bed last night without talking to _and_ punishing her first.

I tried to explain it to him; but my reasoning sounded unsound even to my own ears. I told him that she'd been through enough for one night. And I believed, _believe_, that to be the truth.

He doesn't. Because no matter how I spin it, Moira was wrong. Maybe it was wrong for me to deny her a simple haircut; but to rebel against me and get it done anyway was wrong. I would've come around eventually. In fact, I _had _made the decision to cut her hair for her once we were done shopping yesterday. If she had waited just a little longer, I would've given in; and she wouldn't have had to disappear for _hours_ to get it done.

I still don't know how she was able to do it; but I imagine she wasn't expecting it to take so long. That's what she told me yesterday morning while I was doing her hair; that it would take about five minutes to cut it. And because of that statement, I'm assuming that when I promised her I'd give her fifteen minutes before checking up on her while she was waiting for Noley, Moira must've figured it was all the time she needed to get her hair cut by herself. That it was _more_ than enough time.

I don't know what happened next. I can only guess; and my best guess is that she ended up hurting herself. Maybe she used too much kryptonite. Maybe some of it got stuck in her hair. Maybe it made her pass out. But all these maybes aren't answers. They're hypothetical solutions that produce more questions. Questions I won't get the answers to by lying in bed and asking myself.

I grab my journals. My sixteen year old journals that took me a good two hours to find; and I head for my daughters' bedroom. It used to be ours, mine and my husband's, but it only made sense to switch with them when Noley was old enough to share living space with her sisters. I mean, two people in a master bedroom versus three people in a much smaller room was hardly fair. Of course we could've simply added on to the house; but we really couldn't afford it at the time. Not the building onto the house part in itself. Clark and my children could've done that; but the monthly amount the new space would've cost to ventilate alone would've done a number on our electric bill; not a big number; but we really couldn't afford any more numbers at the time. Yes, Clark's empowered with a lot of gifts; but making money out of thin air isn't one of them. And yes, he could simply use his abilities to get the money; but he would never do that. He's got morals of steel.

I open my daughters' door as quietly as I can; trying my best not to wake them; but at the same time, I know that they've got sensitive hearing and will more than likely wake up anyway.

Once inside, I find out that Moira's not in her bed; but I don't get any time to freak out about it. Someone taps me on the shoulder, making me jump; and that someone is Jonathan.

"Lizzy's in my bed, Mom. She's fine," he whispers before I have the chance to ask him what he's doing in here.

"Oh," is all I say.

It's good, I suppose. Better than good really. I _want_ to talk to her alone, without her sisters as an audience; but I don't know how I feel about the fact that she slept in her brothers' room last night. I mean, I'm okay with that; but I don't appreciate finding out about until now. I guess I just wish I had known where she was all night. Even if she was still _here_, on the farm, I still like to know exactly _where_ she is. I like to know where all my children are; and I don't feel the need to add that thought because Clark told me I favor Moira over the others last night. It's honestly the truth. I love all of my children the same; and I worry about them all. It's just that Moira's always the one who gets hurt; and in my dreams, she's always the one who gets taken away. I worry about _that_.

"Here," Jonathan says as he hands me something I can't quite see in the dark; but as soon as he puts it in my hands I know what it is and I smile; a real smile.

"Thank you," I tell him.

He pulls me into a hug, kisses my cheek, and then tells me that I'm welcome before shooing me out the door. I hesitate for a moment and watch him as he peeks over the rail of the top bunk to check on Noley. Then he smiles before kissing her. I know why he smiled. Noley is a bit of a wild sleeper. Who knows what position he just found her in.

After tucking Noley in as best he can, he walks over to Casey's bed and pulls her comforter up to her shoulder before kissing her as well. The sight melts my heart, nearly brings me to tears, and gives me all the other mushy gushy feelings mothers feel toward their children when they do something that makes her proud. Jonathan is such a good brother; nearly a good man. My God, my baby boy is practically a man. Seems like just yesterday that he was in diapers-

"Mom, do you really think it's wise to leave Lizzy outside by herself," my son tells me without looking my way.

I know what he's doing. He's trying to get me to hurry up and make up with Moira; and he's playing on my fears to get me to get out there to her even faster. He likes it better when everyone gets along.

I smile and leave the room quickly. I don't know what I'd do without him sometimes. I don't know what I'd do without any of them sometimes. How'd I get so lucky?

Lucky.

I turn that word over in my head a few times as I make my way toward the barn. I am lucky; but right now, I'm going to need a lot more of that luck to deal with my daughter. My daughter who remembers what I said about her the day she was born. Those are words I've been wishing I could take back for fifteen years; but I can't. Those are words I've felt guilty and ashamed over for the past fifteen years. _Especially_ for the first few years of Moira's life. I couldn't look at her, Clark, or Martha without remembering what I'd done. I couldn't stand being around my mother-in-law while taking care of her. Not that Martha ever said anything to remind me of it; I was just overly paranoid. I couldn't be in the same room as Martha and Moira without feeling Martha was watching me. Watching the way I dealt with Moira; watching to see if I treated her granddaughter like a child, or if I treated her like the "thing" that I'd called her. I tried to be the best mother in the world to my children, to Moira especially because of what I said about her, and the effort nearly drove me crazy.

I got better over the years. I'm pretty sure Martha still remembered what I said about her grandchild; but she subtly made it clear to me that she doesn't hold it against me; and that I'm a good mother. It's what I needed then, and I learned to deal with what I'd done. Don't get me wrong, I still felt overbearingly guilty about it; but my biggest consolation had been "at least _Moira_ doesn't know that I said that about her;"

but she does know. She remembers. I don't know how she remembers; even with her being half Clark Kent, I still don't know how she could possibly remember that. I just know that she does; and there's no way I can fix it. I can only give her a few apologies that I'm sure she'll deem as meaningless, and explain to her why I said that about her. And even that won't be enough.

I open the barn door, wondering just how I got here so fast. I remember feeling this way once before. Years ago; when Clark, _Kal_, sent me a text message telling me to meet him in his loft. I'd been so nervous then, and every step I took brought me closer to my destination just a little _too _quickly. And now here it is; this awful feeling of Déjà vu; but I really think it's worse this time.

Once upstairs, I feel like turning back around and waiting just a little longer. Moira's asleep. Of course she's asleep. I expected her to be asleep. It's three thirty. Why wouldn't she be asleep?

But she's sleeping on her back, which means I can see every expression that flickers across her face. There aren't many, if any at all. She looks so peaceful, like she doesn't have a care in the world, like she didn't just find out that her mother called her a "thing" the day she was born. Who am I to mess with her while she's not worrying about any of that?

But I don't turn around and go back the way I came either; because as much as I don't want to face her, I can't help but to be drawn to her at the same time.

And with her being asleep, I won't have to see the hurt, betrayal, and anger in her eyes. I don't have to see anything but my daughter sleeping peacefully.

I sit down next to her gently. Not that I have to. She won't wake up. She'll sleep through anything; and that's what gives me the courage to reach out and touch her. I take her hand in mine. They're the same as they've always been; they're just not as small. She's growing up; and I hadn't even noticed. It's odd because I've noticed long ago that Casey is growing up; yet Casey is younger than Moira by two years.

I guess because Casey doesn't need me the way Moira does. Casey doesn't seem to need anyone the way Moira does. She's strong; and not just in a physical sense. She's very strong mentally. She's got a strong will, and she's very independent. If she needs something, she'll try to find a way to get it by herself first, Clark and I are always a last resort.

"Mama?" Moira slurs sleepily.

I freeze because I've suddenly gotten nervous. I wasn't expecting her to wake up so soon. I thought I'd have time to sit with her and think about what to say before she wakes up. But apparently my time is up and I still don't know what my first words should be.

I look down at our hands. They're still joined. She hasn't snatched hers from mine; and that gives me a little courage. Enough to look her in the eyes at least.

She's staring back at me and there they are. Those looks I didn't want to see on her face; hurt, confusion, betrayal; but no anger. She doesn't seem to be angry with me. She's never angry with me. It's a relief; even though I'm consciously aware that there's something wrong with that, maybe even a little unhealthy. What child hasn't been angry with his or her parents at one point in their life? I've had to deal with every one of my children being angry with me at some point, all of them except Moira. And I'm not saying Moira's never been mad at me; I just, I've never _seen _her mad at me. She's never _shown_ me that she's been mad at me before.

Not even now; when she has every right to. Unhealthy or not, right now, at this very moment, it's a relief for me.

"I love you, Moira," I say as I remove my hand from hers to brush the hair out of her face.

She bites her lip nervously, and I can tell she's trying to keep from crying. But she doesn't jerk away from me. She still lets me touch her. I didn't think she would let me once she was conscious and a little more clearheaded; but she does and I take that as all the encouragement I'll ever need to continue to do so.

"I've always loved you," I tell her firmly.

She takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. I know what she's thinking. She's thinking that I didn't "always" love her. I couldn't have. Not if I didn't want to be near her when she was born. Not if I called her a _thing_.

"I've got something for you," I sigh.

I get up; but I don't go far. I just go far enough to pick up my notebooks off of Jonathan's nightstand. Then I sit back down; but not in my original spot. I'm closer to her; but maybe she doesn't notice. Or maybe I'm hoping she notices and scoots a little closer to me too.

And she does. But not before saying, "What are those, Mama?"

I try not to make my joy and relief obvious when she sits up and scoots a little closer to me. I really don't understand why she's so forgiving all the time; but I'll take it right now. Later, it can be a bad and unhealthy thing; but right now it's not.

"These are my journals," I tell her.

"You write in journals too?" She asks with a cross between an intrigued smile and a confused frown on her face.

"Too?" I ask. "Do you have a journal Lizzy?"

She shrugs at me. Not technically an answer; but I'm pretty good at reading between the lines. Hell, my husband would've been able to read between those lines when he was her age and still that clueless best friend of mine. The answer is yes. She does have a journal; one that I didn't even know about.

"What do you write about?" I ask her gently enough so that she knows she doesn't have to answer if she doesn't want to; but at the same time, I'm letting her know that I'm really interested in the answer.

"Just secrets," she shrugs while staring at the journals in my hands thoughtfully.

"What kind of secrets," I smile.

She smiles back at me and takes the journals out of my hands.

"How old are these?" she asks.

I smile back sadly. She's not going to tell me what kinds of secrets are in her journal. They're her secrets. And now, she's going to learn some of mine.

"These sixteen years old Lizzy," I whisper softly before grabbing hold of her hand.

She looks up at me; and I just know she's going to pass out, or cry, or up-chuck or something. She's suddenly lost all color from her skin; and her hands, they've started shaking and I don't think they're going to stop anytime soon.

"Maybe I don't need to read them," she whispers while trying to hand them back to me.

I want to take them back from her. I don't want her to know what happened; that I didn't carry her, that Lex Luthor probably did some tinkering with her and Jonathan, that a Kryptonian artificial intelligence tried to release a Kryptonian terrorist and kill everyone, that I almost died, that her father almost died, that everyone almost died.

She's my oldest child. Technically. She _was_ born first. Yet, I don't feel she's ready to know about this. Even if she _needs _to know about this.

"You love me now, right Mama?" she asks.

I blink at her. Not sure of where she's going with this; but I also make sure to answer her immediately by wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close to me. 'You love me _now_, right Mama?' That's what she asked me because she's convinced that I didn't love her _then_.

It hurts me; but I'm sure she's hurting more.

"Of course I love you baby," I answer fiercely. It takes a lot of effort not to add the "I've always loved you part," but I manage. She won't believe me anyway.

"Then maybe that's all I need to know. Maybe I don't need to know what's in your Journal," she tells me.

I kinda feel like she tricked me, or manipulated me in some way. Not that she's been fully successful. But she almost got me. I almost give in and take the journals from her.

"Read them," I tell her. Then I pick up the one she needs and give it to her.

"Read this one first," I command as I stand up to leave her alone with the four notebooks I filled with every emotion and event, good or bad, that I went through since the day a little girl named Maddie showed an Alien her rock collection.

"Mama, wait!" Moira calls once my back is turned to her.

I face her immediately, unable to walk away from her when she sounds like that; desperate, and scared. What mother could turn her back on her child when she sounds like that?

"Can't you stay with me? I don't want to be alone," she pleads.

I smile at her and shake my head a little. For the most part, she's like my husband; but there are many little ways she's just like me. I was reminded of that yesterday when Clark told her to take a short cut to school because she'd missed her bus.

Her response had been, "through what? A black whole?"

It made me laugh. It made both Clark and I laugh because _I _asked him that before; during freshman year.

Clark missed the bus to school. I _saw_ him miss the bus; so did our friend, Pete, but somehow Clark ended up getting to the high school before us, before the _bus_.

I called him out on it. I flat out asked him how he got there so fast.

He told me he took a short cut.

My response had been, "through what? A black hole?"

And right now, Moira just told me she doesn't want to be alone. That's the reason I got up out of bed at three thirty in the morning. Because I didn't want to be alone.

"Alright, I can stay," I give in and sit down beside her.

She scoots back away from me; and I feel the slightest amount of pain in my chest. She doesn't want to be near me.

Then Moira looks at me and frowns.

"Aren't you going to sit next to me?" she asks.

I smile in relief. I've been doing that a lot lately; but this time shouldn't really count. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that she was just trying to rest her back against the headboard to get comfortable.

I move to sit beside her, but I have a slight dilemma. I don't know what to do with my hands. I've never done this before; just sat next to one of my children while he or she reads and I do nothing. I'm always running about; doing this and that. Now, I'm not. It's actually kind of odd.

Moira looks over at me, and she's still frowning. It's a different kind of frown, one that lets me know that she wants something. I just don't know what it is.

She sighs and looks back down at my journal. She doesn't make an effort to open the book and I know it's because she's still afraid of what she might learn.

I scoot in closer and wrap my arm around her while pulling her closer to me. She snuggles in a little more before looking up at me, smiling softly, and finally opening the journal.

I kiss her forehead and raise my eyes to the ceiling. No wonder I can't think of her as anything other than a baby. She _wanted _me to hold her. That's what all the frowning was about. She wants me to hold her while she reads. And do I enable my baby?

Of course I do; because now I've got something to do with my hands.

I don't let go of her. I just keep holding her as she quickly flips through the pages. I notice that she slows down sometimes; probably when something really interesting is happening, and then she'll speed back up, reading a full page before I can read the first three words.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here watching her do that. All I know is that I'm opening my eyes. I didn't even realize they were shut. I blink a few times, trying to get my bearings and wondering just how long my eyes were shut to begin with since I _had _to get my bearings in the first place.

That's when I hear them. Sniffles.

Moira's crying.

That's probably what woke me up.

I shift a bit to get a little more comfortable.

I don't know where she is in the journal. I don't even know _which_ one she's on. She could be reading about anything right now.

"Hey," I murmur while giving her a gentle squeeze. "What's the matter?"

She sniffs a little more and wipes at her face.

"I thought you were sleeping," she murmurs while straightening up.

It's not an answer to my question. So I search for one of my own. I take the notebook from her and frown at what I'm reading. I don't know if I should be relieved or what. Of all the things I've written in my journal, I didn't expect _this _to be the thing Moira would cry over.

"Lizzy," I start off slowly.

"What?" she cuts me off. "It's really sad, Mama," she sniffs again before wrapping her arms around me and burying her head in my chest.

I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes as hug her close to me. My daughter is obviously a hopeless romantic. And a sap.

"What about the stuff before it?" I ask her

Maybe that's what startled the sniffles and the other stuff was just too much to handle afterward.

"What stuff?" she asks; her words are muffled against my chest, but I still hear them just fine.

"Oh, I don't know, baby. The part where I had to get a bomb surgically removed from my chest? The part where I remembered Lex Luthor was the one who kidnapped me? The part where I realized he split you and Jonathan up and put you"-

"I know, but _this_ is really sad," she practically wails while rubbing my back. Apparently, she's trying to make me feel better; but I already feel better. I've been feeling better for years.

"Honey, he came back. Soon afterward too. How do you think I had Andrew so soon after you and your brother? Try to focus on that," I croon while rubbing her back gently.

"But it's been forever. I can't take it anymore. All you wanted was for him to come home and he never did"-

"Yes he did, Lizzy. Remember? That's how you got another brother a year later," I remind her.

"So, do I have to finish? Since I know what happened already?" she sniffs.

I kiss her forehead and as I do I get a glimpse of the clock. It's practically six o'clock; time for the school morning chaos to begin.

I pull away from her, pick up the item Jonathan slipped to me a few hours ago, position her in a way that grants me the most convenient access, and I begin to use it.

"You can take a break, but you need to finish after school," I tell her as I brush her hair. But that's all I can do. Brush her hair. I don't have any hair ties on me. I can't put her hair in those two braids she always wants without hair ties.

I sigh a little.

"I'm sorry about my hair, Mama," Moira sniffs.

"I don't have any hair ties," I tell her. I'm aware of the fact that I didn't tell her that I forgive her. I should. She's forgiven me and what I did was much worse.

She holds her hand up, and on her wrist are two blue schrunchies. I peel them off; and as I do she sighs so deeply that I know something's wrong.

"Lizzy, I forgive you for cutting your hair. I do; but I just wish you would've waited on me. I would've come around eventually; but because you didn't wait there are going to be consequences," I lecture.

"I know, I'm in trouble with everyone. Even Auntie Lois," she sighs.

"Your auntie will most certainly have a few words to say about this, but I wouldn't say you're in _trouble _with her," I chuckle lightly.

"Yes I am. I'm in big trouble," she sighs miserably.

"What makes you think so?"

"She's in the house, looking for me. And she's _really_ mad. Mama, don't let her get me," Moira pleads.

I nearly laugh. When Clark was her age, he seemed to be afraid of Lois as well, even though she couldn't physically hurt him. Moira's no different.

I finish up her hair. It doesn't take me anywhere near as long as it used to because of its new length.

"Red! You get your ass down here now!" Lois calls from downstairs.

Moira was right. Lois is mad. Not that she doesn't often use profanity; but she hardly ever yells at anyone like _this_.

"Don't make me come up there!"

Moira gives me a look. Clearly, she's asking me for help; but I don't think I can save her this time. She really brought this on herself. We were all very worried about her yesterday; and we all showed our displeasure toward her in different ways. Lois's way just so happens to be loud. Very loud.

"Let's go," I tell my daughter as I nod my head toward the stairs.

She hesitates; but then she gets up slowly and leads the way.

Lois doesn't wait until Moira is fully downstairs before ripping my child a new one. She asks her what she was thinking when she disappeared, then before Moira can answer, she tells her that it doesn't matter, that she _couldn't_ have been thinking, and that she was irresponsible.

I give Moira's arm a gentle squeeze before walking past her; and I make the mistake of looking at her as well. She doesn't want me to leave her there. And she's started to cry again. Not cry in the form of wailing and sobbing; but there are tears falling down her cheeks.

I almost stay; but I think this could be good for her. Underneath all of Lois's yelling and profanity, there's a simple concept Moira needs to pick up on. And it's that Lois was scared when we couldn't find her niece. Moira needs to understand that her actions affect the people around her greatly; even people she doesn't think like her very much.

I'm sure Lois will end her rant with a few hugs and kisses, and some nice words along with an "I love you." I would know, I've been on the receiving end of a Lois freak out rant plenty of times.

I frown a little as I look up at the front door. There's someone there; a young man that I don't recognize. He seems to be a fairly…_dark_ individual.

Dark hair.

Dark eyes.

Dark clothes.

Dark mood. Really dark mood.

He doesn't smile until I reach the steps.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask him. There's something familiar about him; but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Hi Mrs. Kent," he says as offers his hand out to me.

"I didn't catch _your_ name," I tell him as I take his hand in mine.

"I'm Heath," he smiles as if I should know who he is.

He's right. I do know a little. He's the new student; the one Moira was assigned to show around Smallville High; the one who wouldn't look at any other girls except Moira according to her cousin and siblings.

"So, she's told you about me," he grins.

Before I can answer, there's fire. Literally. A bush catches fire next to the porch. Heath pulls his shirt off immediately and stamps it out. I look around myself, trying to find the cause of it. It doesn't take me long. Moira's not too far away and she looks a little nervous. I should assume it was an accident; like the kind of accidents Clark used to have when his heat vision first started. I mean, he was Moira's age when thoughts of sex started making flames burst from his eyes; but Moira doesn't look like she's lusting after this Heath guy. She looks startled by what just happened, sure; but before that, she looked angry.

More than just angry. She looked pissed off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Madlenita: **Lol. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you enjoy this one too!

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**The fallen sky: **Lol. What am I going to do with you? I know it's no fair to you; but it's 4:30 am; and I've been up since 6:30am. I'm really tired; but I wanted to finish this chapter. It's nearly 10,000 words long. I told you this one was going to be long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it; and that it was worth the wait! I hope it's not too disappointing. I know how you wanted everything to play out.

**Anonymous: **I can't say hun;)

**Dizzy78: **Thank you! That's what I thought as well. I don't think Chloe means to single Moira out all the time.

**Shonnia22: **Lol. Lois is something else alright. Really hope you enjoy this one, it's long as hell

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

Like yesterday, I have no hopes for this being a good day. It started off okay; well, maybe not okay; just better than I expected it to.

I woke up in the wrong bed, again; but this time it was by my own choice. I was in my brother's room because I couldn't sleep in the house. I didn't want to be there; not while my parents were fighting. They've fought before; but not like the way they were doing last night. It was a little too much so I snuck out of the house, up to my brothers' room, and Johnny let me sleep in his bed.

Then I woke up early; like nearly four o'clock in the morning early. I didn't know why at first. It was still so dark that not even the weakest ray of sunlight was up and about yet; and yet, my eyes had opened. That's when I saw her, my mother. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she was holding my hand. She looked so scared, and worried, and I couldn't help but to think it had something to do with my father. He wasn't in the house. He left last night and he hadn't come back yet; and for the briefest second, my thoughts had gone to divorce. I remember thinking that if my parents got a divorce because of what I'd done, I would've never been able to forgive myself.

Then she spoke. She told me that she loved me; that she'd always loved me, and I got even more afraid. It kind of felt like she was telling me goodbye or something; like she couldn't take it anymore; me, my father, the fact that he slept with her best friend and expected her to help love and raise their illegitimate child as her own.

I looked to the ceiling because even though she didn't want me at first, I still loved her. I couldn't help it. She was the only mother I'd ever known; and she was so good at it. She was a bit overprotective at times; but it was better than being neglectful. Way better.

Then she told me that she had something for me. I didn't want it. It felt like it would be a goodbye present to me.

The something she had for me turned out to be notebooks; old notebooks. I got a little curious about them despite myself. I asked her what they were; and I still called her Mama. I did it on purpose. Maybe if she realized how much I still loved her, and how I still thought of her as my mother even after finding out that she wasn't, she wouldn't leave. Maybe she'd still want to keep being my mother.

She told me they were her journals, and then she asked me if I had a journal too. I guess she figured I did because I'd been amazed that she had journals and I made a comment that suggested I might. There isn't much my mother and I have in common; and even with finally knowing why, it still felt really good to learn that we share a hobby of sorts.

I took her journals from her; then she told me they were sixteen years old and I tried to give them back. I really didn't want to read them. I didn't need to know all the little details. I just needed to know that my mother loved me. It's all I wanted; but she insisted, so I read them.

I learned a lot. My mom writes the way I do. I'd never noticed; but our handwriting is nearly identical. Most importantly, I learned that I am my mother's child; but I probably was experimented on. Me and Johnny both. It's not so bad. At least I'm not alone in that.

I also learned why kryptonite only affects me. It's simple really. My mother's infected. That's why she has such a hard time when she gets pregnant. I don't remember the others so well; but I remember Noley. God, I hated Noley with a passion. She was constantly hurting my mother, constantly making her sick. But that was because _she_ was constantly hurting and constantly sick. The kryptonite in my mother's system was making my sister writhe in pain. There were times I thought my mother was going to die because of Noley and that's why I hated her. I even wished she would…that my mother would miscarry her a couple of times.

Then one day it stopped. According to my mother's journals, it's because she became immune to the kryptonite. It was either that or die I guess.

The woman who carried me, Lana, wasn't infected by kryptonite. I never got the chance to build up immunity to it; but I'm not sad about it. I don't think my mother would've lived if she had carried both me and Johnny. Not after seeing how much pain carrying one child put her through; and I don't understand how my mother did _that_ four times.

I remember after Noley was born, I felt so guilty that I hated her; and that I wished she would die for hurting my mother; because she really wasn't so bad afterward. She's a good kid, and I let her have her way most of the time because of what I thought about her before she was born.

I can't help but to think me and my mother are similar in that area. Maybe she did hate me, the way I hated Noley; but maybe she felt bad about it afterward, like the way I felt bad about hating my sister. Maybe she loves me now; the way I love Noley so much that I can't even imagine how my life would be without her and her crazy antics.

I can forgive my mother for hating me once, even though I'm not sure why she hated me. According to her journals, she knew I was her child. Maybe something else happened to make her think otherwise. There's a good chance of that as I haven't finished reading the journals. I got stuck on the part where my dad spent some time away from my mother. Not by choice though. He had to leave in order to stop some Kryptonian terrorist from taking over the world; but that didn't make the loss any better for my mother. She took it hard. She cried so much, and she was so depressed and mopey; and I would've been able to handle it if she'd just taken a paragraph or even a page to explain her sadness; but it was much more than that. It was every day, constantly, pages and pages, literally journals, as in plural, of her being afraid, and sad, and beginning to lose hope that he would ever come home. There we're dreams, and hallucinations, and sleepwalking, and I just couldn't deal. I started to cry. And I ended up waking her up. She comforted me, hugged me and everything; but I really think she wanted to laugh at me for crying. I wanted to laugh at me too but I couldn't. It was that bad; and I'm not even the one who went through it. I understood then why she keeps such a good eye on us, and I guess when I disappeared for so long yesterday, it kind of freaked her out.

She brushed my hair then, like she always does. It didn't take as long because of my hair's new length and I apologized for it. That's when I heard her; my auntie. She was pissed; and she was in the house looking for me. Naturally, Casey's the one who told her where I was. Not that I blame her, I wouldn't have wanted to be in the same room with my auntie at that time, in fact I _didn't_ want to be alone with my auntie at that time; but a few minutes later I was. My mom, my _real_ mother, left me in there with her; even after I begged her not to.

My Aunt yelled at me; a lot. She called me irresponsible. She called me selfish. She told me I need to think before I pull stupid s-word like that again. She went on and on, and I just cried because I already felt like crap to begin with; but she was making me feel like crap stuck on the bottom of a really expensive pair of shoes.

Then she hugged me. It shocked me because my aunt isn't much of a hugger. I know she loves me, but she doesn't usually show it in a physical way. She's more of the squeeze your arm, tug on your hair, honk your nose, punch you in the arm type of aunt. But she hugged me then, for a long time, and then she kissed me on the cheek; and when she pulled back from me there were tears in her eyes. My auntie does _not _cry. But there they were; tears, just for me. I can honestly say that it made me feel worse than all the yelling did; and when she told me she loved me, I cried like a baby and hugged her back. I apologized, and nearly promised not to disappear again. But that's something I can't ever promise. My dad taught me that via those godforsaken journals my mother kept.

We walked outside then; and that's when I realized my day was going to be just as bad as yesterday. Jeremiah was standing on my front porch, and he was talking to my mother. I got so angry so fast I didn't realize what had happened until the bush next to the porch caught fire.

Jeremiah took his shirt off and used it to put the fire out. And for the briefest second I wanted to set _him_ on fire. He knew exactly what he was doing last night. He'd been so careful with his words. He said Miss Morgan, Lana, gave birth to me knowing I would think she was my biological mother; when in all actuality she did give birth to me, technically, but she's not. Or maybe he didn't know. Maybe he really thinks Miss Morgan is my mother. Maybe he doesn't know about the Lex experimenting on my mother part.

"I agree, I can see what you see in him, Red," my aunt says while nudging me in the rib.

I look up at her blankly, because I don't know what she's talking about. There are so many things running through my mind right now, and I know I didn't say any of them out loud. So how can she possibly agree with me? I didn't _say_ anything for her to agree with.

"That's Heath right? The new guy in school," she explains.

I nod my head, wondering how on earth she knows about "Heath."

"Well, introduce us," Auntie Lois says while shoving me up to the porch.

It doesn't take as long as it should to get to my porch; probably because I don't want to actually be there; not with Jeremiah there as well. I'm starting to feel a little nervous about what he's already said to my mother; and what he plans on saying next.

I glance at my mother; she doesn't look like he told her anything that would get me into serious trouble. She looks…_curious._ I turn my gaze onto Jeremiah, wondering what he told her to make her look at me like that

"Why don't we all go inside and have breakfast? I'll take a look at your hands Heath," my mother suggests.

"No need Mrs. Kent. My shirt got the brunt of the fire," Jeremiah says while holding up his damaged shirt.

"You two go ahead," I cut in with a smile aimed at my aunt and mother. "I want to talk to Heath first."

My Aunt shrugs and goes inside immediately. I can't help but to think she's proud of me even though I haven't exactly done anything _to_ make her proud. My mom doesn't leave though. She just arches an eyebrow at me; but it doesn't matter anyway. Jeremiah tells me that he's hungry and that we can talk later before going inside of my house.

I follow after him; determined to try and get a minute alone with him, because I really need to know why he's here.

Once inside the kitchen, Jeremiah picks up a bowl and pours some cereal into it. Lucky charms. He doesn't even introduce himself to my family; just melts into the school morning chaos as if he belongs.

He doesn't belong.

I walk up to him and take the bowl out of his hand.

"It was for you anyway honey," he shrugs before grabbing a piece of toast from the toaster and biting into it.

And just like that, the school morning chaos comes to an abrupt halt; and not because Jeremiah just took a bite of someone else's food; but because he just called me honey. I could just die. He's never called me honey before. The nicest thing he calls me is Mosey; but the minute he gets around my family, he wants to call me honey?

I try my best not to glance around at any of my family; but I _do _know that they're staring at me, probably wondering how I'm going to respond to being called honey by a boy I supposedly just met yesterday.

"You did it wrong," Noley speaks first. She's talking to Jeremiah, and she's pointing at the bowl of cereal he just poured for me while patting his arm.

He gives me an amused look and I nearly jump in front of my sister. I don't know how Jeremiah's going to respond to her; but I don't want him to say anything mean to her. She's just a kid.

"What did I do wrong?" he asks her.

"When you pour Lizzy's Lucky Charms you have to pull out all the marshmallows and give them to me. She doesn't like marshmallows," Noley answers seriously.

"Are you sure the marshmallows aren't your sister's favorite part? Maybe she just lets you have them since you want them and you're so uh…cute," he tells her.

I glare at him. He's right; but I really don't want Noley to know that. I'm the one who told her that I don't like the marshmallows so that she could have mine. She's the only one in my family who doesn't know that the marshmallows are my favorite part of the cereal; and that when my mom fixes my bowl she leaves a few in there for me.

"Nope. She hates marshmallows. I'm sure. She's _my _sister. Not yours," Noley says with so much conviction _I _almost believe her.

"Oh, I know she's not my sister," Jeremiah chuckles; but the look he gives me is so creepy. It's like he's checking me out or something; which he never does because we're just not like that. Never have been. Never will be. I turn my attention away from him and onto my bowl of cereal as I start taking the marshmallows out for Noley.

My mom clears her throat. So does my auntie. I look back at them to see why; even though I _already_ know why. My aunt looks amused again, proud even as she motions for Sammy to go outside and wait in the car before picking Mikey up and heading out.

Sammy doesn't want to go, and he makes that clear via body language as well as verbally; but my aunt's smiling as she tells him that the Kents need some time alone.

"_He's_ not a Kent," Sammy says a little unnecessarily as we all know that "Heath" isn't a part of our family.

"Not yet," my aunt mutters in a singsong voice as she shuts the door behind herself.

Gross. I think I'm gonna be sick; and I really, _really,_ hope no one took my aunt seriously.

I look around myself to see; Johnny's staring at Jeremiah, almost like he's sizing him up which is kinda weird. He's usually not so aggressive; not even with boys who take an interest in me or my sister. Casey's keeping her head down and finishing her breakfast; Noley's still waiting on me to finish with her marshmallows; I'm not gonna even look at Jeremiah; and Andrew's smiling at me. He looks a little like my aunt; like he's proud of me for finally stepping out of my goody two shoes and putting on my big girl boots. I scowl and roll my eyes at him; and in turn his smile brightens. He never takes me seriously. It's a good thing because he keeps me from taking _myself_ too seriously as well. I give in and smile back at him; but I make the mistake of glancing back at my mother.

My smile drops quickly. My mother doesn't look as amused as Andrew does. She looks like she wants to talk to me upstairs. Now.

"Mosey, is there any chance you still have my shirt from last night because I really need one or your brother's gonna do some irrevocable harm to my bare chest as I'm flaunting it front of his little sisters."

Johnny runs upstairs in a hurry and I can barely think of why he would do such a thing because I can literally feel my face pale as I turn around to give Jeremiah my full attention. I don't know why he said that. I just know that it's gonna get me in a lot of trouble. His shirt from _last night_? My mom never even got around to asking me where I was last night! I had a feeling we were going to talk about it once I finished her journals and the whole me being another woman's child issue had been cleared up; but that didn't go according to plan. I started crying, and then my aunt showed up to yell at me, and we just never got around to it. And it looks like we won't be getting around to it now because Jeremiah's just let everyone know where I was last night.

"Here," Johnny says just as he enters the dining area and throws the shirt at Jeremiah's face, a little harder than necessary. Jeremiah catches it, fakes shaking his hand in pain, and tells my brother that he's got a good arm.

My brother doesn't answer him. He turns his attention on me.

"I found that under Casey's bed this morning," he hisses.

"What were you doing under Casey's bed?" I ask. I keep my eyes on my brother even as I feel all other eyes on me. I'm surprised my mother hasn't jumped down my throat yet. And I'm also a little nervous about that. She should've interrupted by now. There's a shirtless guy in our kitchen claiming that I still have his shirt from last night for God's sake! Why hasn't she interrupted yet?

"The better question would be why was it under _Casey's_ bed? Why not put it in your own dresser, or under your _own_ bed?"

The way he asks those questions gives me the feeling that he'd been snooping around my room, going through my drawers, looking under my bed, looking under Casey's bed. There's no doubt in my mind that he'd been spying on me.

"Did you want someone to find the shirt under Casey's bed and think that she's the one sneaking around, bringing boys' shirts back?" he asks, his voice practically dripping with disdain.

"John"-

"That's what you think of me Johnny? That I'd frame Casey?" I cut Casey off before she can tell the whole house that she was the one who hid the shirt under her bed. She may threaten my life on a daily basis, and she may actually want me to disappear; but she's never told on me before. She's pretty good at keeping secrets as well as her mouth shut. She needs to keep continuing to do so because owning up to what she did will just get her into a lot of trouble. Everyone will want to know _why_ she did it; and there's really no sense in the both of us getting into trouble over this; because I'm so certain that shit's about to hit the fan.

"I just hid it, okay? I didn't think about the whys and the how comes. I just did it," I continue. It's a complete lie; but no one's trying to pay enough attention to me to figure out if I'm lying or not. My mom's just grabbed my arm, and I'm sure we're headed upstairs to talk for a long "talk".

"Wait Mrs. Kent, It's not Mosey's fault, it's mine," Jeremiah speaks up.

My mom stops on Mosey. This is his second time calling me that in front of my family; and she's probably wondering how I got a nickname from him so fast. I'm sure she has her suspicions; but my mom likes the truth even more than "what ifs" and "maybes".

"Who are you?" my mother asks. She doesn't raise her voice per se; but she's still loud enough to be heard. I hold my breath unconsciously, waiting for Jeremiah to answer. That question alone lets me know that she's been thinking up a few scenarios already because she already knows that he's "Heath," the new guy at school.

I move my arm a little but she doesn't let go of it. I suspect that if Jeremiah doesn't say anything interesting enough she'll haul me upstairs and feed me to my father, who may not be here right now, but it won't take him long to appear if she calls for him.

"I'm Mosey's, uh _Lizzy's_, boyfriend," he answers.

What did I say? Shit. Fan. Definite hittage.

My mother looks to me. I shake my head. I don't know where he's going with this but I don't want to participate. I nearly tell my mother the truth then and there about him and his mother; the woman they think is dead; but I keep my mouth shut, and it takes a lot of effort to do so. No matter how mad I am at Jeremiah, I can't do that to Miss Morgan. She goes through a lot of trouble to keep hidden; and I doubt she's hiding from my parents. She has no reason to be afraid of them. According to my mother's journals, Lana Lang did nothing wrong _and_ she was their best friend. I'm sure she'd be glad to see my parents as would my parents be glad to see her. Come to think of it, she's always asking me questions about them; always asking me how they're doing and she never settles for "fine." She genuinely wants to know how they were doing; and she always smiles, almost wistfully, when I tell her about them. She must miss them an awful lot. She can't be hiding from them. It's someone else. Maybe her fiancé, Lex Luthor. Maybe he's mad at her for telling my mother about the experiments, I mean, he did try to kill her afterward. Maybe he's in jail because of her. Maybe Jeremiah is actually his son, and she took him. Maybe Lex Luthor is still searching for his son; _if _Jeremiah is indeed his son. Maybe he'd stop at nothing to find him. Maybe he'd even kill her.

Then again, telling my parents won't be so bad. I know I promised Miss Morgan that I wouldn't tell anyone about her; but I probably should. I mean, I know Miss Morgan can take care of herself; she's been doing it for a long time; but maybe if I tell my parents what's going on she'll be able to come out of hiding. Maybe my dad and the league and even I will be able to help her so that she won't have to hide anymore. Maybe-

"How long?" my mother asks, bringing me back to the present.

She wants to know how long I've been dating Jeremiah; and Jeremiah opens his mouth to tell her; to lie to her. I interrupt him. My mom wants the truth.

"Mama," I say, my decision made; but she cuts me off with a glare so fierce it renders me speechless. I can't help but to be reminded of the look she gave me _that _day, nearly sixteen years ago.

She looks to Jeremiah, encouraging him to answer; and he does.

"I've known Mosey for a long time. I would never hurt her; and I would never let anything happen to her. And I'm very sorry about yesterday. I try my best to protect her; but with you guys living in a town that holds so much kryptonite, it kind of makes that a little harder for me. Not that I'm blaming you or anything," he adds quickly when my brothers both take a step toward him.

"What happened yesterday?" My mother asks. She's walking toward him, and she still has my arm. She may not be Kryptonian, but she seems to be dragging me along without the slightest amount of effort; either that, or I'm too weak with wrecked nerves to fight her.

My brothers step aside, letting her pass; letting _us_ pass. I keep my eyes on Jeremiah, silently begging him to shut up. Not that it would do me any good now. The second he mentioned my name and kryptonite in the same sentence was a point of no return. Nothing short of all hell is about to break loose.

Despite my pleading gaze Jeremiah opens his mouth to answer my mother's question; but my dad appears. Not right in front of us. He comes in through the door as if he knows we have a guest; one who shouldn't know that he's Superman; but with what Jeremiah said about it being difficult to protect me in a town riddled with kryptonite, I'm pretty sure my family knows that he knows the family secret. And I'm also pretty sure Johnny was the one who gave my dad the heads up via text message as no phone calls have been made, and my siblings haven't left the room.

"Out," My father says; and that one word makes all of my siblings scramble away quickly and without a word. I don't even think they'll have the courage to listen in. I try to leave too; hoping, but not putting too much faith in the fact that he might want to talk to Jeremiah alone.

"Stay," he growls so dangerously that I don't even pretend not to know that he's talking to me; and not one of my brothers or sisters pretend to think he's talking to him or her.

"Dad," I try; but like my mother he cuts me off with just one look. I almost get angry with him. Why make me stay if he's not going to let me talk?

And what's stopping me from talking anyway? All I have to do is blurt out the fact that Lana is alive and that's it. I wouldn't be able to take it back; I wouldn't be able to make my announcement unheard. I'm sure my parents will let me talk then. I'd still be in the same amount of trouble as I'm in now; but at least we, or they, will be able to start helping her. So what's stopping me from blurting it out?

'_It's easy. Just say Lana's alive, Moira,'_ I couch myself. But I don't. I don't say anything. I'm still afraid.

I really can't be mad at anyone other than myself. No wonder my parents treat me like a baby. I have about as much courage as…as…God, it's awful to think that mice might have more courage than I do.

"You mentioned kryptonite and my daughter in the same sentence. Why?" my father demands of Jeremiah. I don't know why he's not asking me. Maybe he thinks Jeremiah will give him the truth and I won't. I guess that's the logical assumption for him to make as I've been lying to my parents for so long..

Jeremiah stands up straight, and he looks my father in the eyes. He's not afraid. I've never seen him afraid of anything. But I wish he'd pretend to be somewhat afraid right now. That way my father won't think of him as some kind of dangerous threat against his family because let's face it; those who aren't afraid of Superman are either fools or dangerous. At least, that's how I see it anyway.

"Like I told Mrs. Kent, I've known Mosey for a long time; and I know _everything_ there is to know about her. I would never hurt her," Jeremiah says without blinking.

My father takes a few steps closer to Jeremiah; slow, calculating, dangerous steps.

"How long have you known _my_ Moira?"

_My_ Moira? I nearly gulp audibly. It's quite obvious to me that my father doesn't like for me to be called Mosey; and it's even more obvious that my dad is being a bit possessive. I'm in serious trouble here, but I can't help but to feel a little happy. I mean, I know my dad loves me and everything; but he doesn't usually act this way. He wasn't even like this when Casey had Jason come to pick her up for a study date; and she's his favorite! Well, she's not his _favorite _because my parents claim they don't have favorites; but he's a bit nicer to Casey in my opinion, and I would've expected him to act this way toward boys who like her.

"Eight years," Jeremiah answers promptly. "But don't worry; we've only been dating for the past year or so."

And just like that, all my happy feelings go away. He really needs to stop claiming to be my boyfriend right now. Not that there's ever a good time where my father is concerned; but after learning about Maddie's upcoming wedding, my father has been a little more strict with things like that. And with that thought racing around my head, I get a little more discouraged. Maybe that's why my dad is freaking out so bad. He's still not used to the fact that Maddie's about to get married.

When he stopped by Noley's school yesterday, he asked me a million questions about Maddie and Greg. I tried my best to give him vague answers; like, "he's a nice guy" and "they really love each other;" but my father kept telling me that Maddie's too young to get married, or to be in love, or to date; and if Maddie, who's twenty four years old by the way, is too young to date, then I'm definitely not even allowed to have my first crush on an unattainable boy band member. Yet here Jeremiah is, pretending to be my boyfriend of twelve full months.

I look down at my shoes and mentally beat myself up for not speaking up yet. Jeremiah's lying to my father's face with so much confidence; whereas I can't even look up from my shoes to tell my parents the truth.

"Eight years?" both my parents repeat back in unison.

I understand the surprise and anger in their voices. Sure, I'll be sixteen next month; but eight years ago I was still a small child; seven, almost eight years old. How could I have _possibly_ have known Jeremiah since I was a child and my parents not know about it?

"Yeah, she used to sneak out whenever she was at Maddie's."

I flinch at the way Jeremiah says Maddie's name; as if he's known her for years as well; but I don't bring my head up because he's not lying about that. I use to sneak out of Maddie's window all the time. Hell, the last time I did it was just a few short weeks ago.

"This time, she just snuck away from the elementary school," he continues as if he's telling a really good story rather getting me into deeper trouble.

I grab my wrist with my left hand as he explains about the kryptonite snake. It's one of those things I do when I'm really nervous and need something _durable _to hold onto. With my nerves bouncing around the way they're doing right now, I could easily do some damage to everything surrounding myself without even trying. Then I hear him tell my parents about how we had to go to his house so that I could be treated. My father interrupts there, and I hold my breath wondering what's gonna happen next.

"Where do you live?" he asks Jeremiah.

"Not far, walking distance even," Jeremiah lies, and before my father can ask him to be more specific he continues with, "I'm sure you're probably wondering why you've never seen me around if I live so close."

Neither of my parents respond, so I assume they're waiting for Jeremiah to continue.

He doesn't disappoint.

"I've been homeschooled my whole life. My mother was a bit overprotective. I wasn't really allowed out much. And I didn't make a lot of friends because we moved around so much. Lucky for me, Mosey could always get to me no matter where in the world I resided. She's "-

"Oh, _shut_ up!" I yell suddenly. I don't know how I went from being scared to being so angry I could just strangle him so fast; but I did because I've had enough. I don't know what I've ever done to him to make him hate me so much that he felt the need to come and ruin my life. I've tried my best to be his friend. I've always tried to sympathize with him rather than just think of him as the means spirited jerk that he is. I figured he was just lonely or something. He doesn't have any brothers or sisters, he doesn't have a dad; he doesn't have any friends as he's homeschooled and travels a lot, he doesn't even have a tutor. He just has me, Miss Morgan, and his pet snake. That's enough to drive any kid insane; but right now I could care less about that; because if I'm the only friend he's got, he sure as hell doesn't know how to treat me like I am.

"Shut up? I shouldn't have had to speak in the first place! Your parents should've known about me by now; especially after last night. You should've told them Mosey; then I wouldn't have to." he yells back at me; like it's my fault that he's come here, to my house, to tattle on me.

I look down at my shoes again, fuming at his little outburst. What does he mean I should've told my parents by now? I was told not to tell _anyone_ about him or his mother. And the way he keeps bringing up last night; it almost makes it seem as though something…very inappropriate happened between us. God, I hope that's not the conclusion my parents have drawn.

"Jesus, are you really that much of a baby?" he continues. I keep my head down and ignore him, waiting for my parents to interrupt. I'm just ready for it to be over. I'll take the yelling, get my punishment, go to school, come home, and start carrying out my sentence.

"Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. You let your _little_ sister have your marshmallows just to avoid confrontation. Why would I expect you to tell your parents about me? You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't tell them about your"-

"Don't!" I yell in alarm, my eyes going wide. His eyes go wide too; and I know it's because he's assumed my parents already know my secret. He was just being sarcastic.

He closes his eyes and he inhales sharply. I halfway expect him to pinch the bridge of his nose; but he just keeps his fists balled up by his side

"I don't understand you," he says simply.

I can feel my face turning red. I've never understood why people have wished it before; but I get it now; and now I've become one of them; one of those people who've wished a hole in the ground would open up and swallow them whole. I look down. It's the tone of his voice that's got me feeling ashamed. It's different. I can't quite place it. It's almost as if he's worried, or confused, or something. It's just…softer and more compassionate than I'm used to. It creeps me out because I don't think he's faking his actions right now. He really doesn't understand how I can possible be afraid of people who love me. But what Jeremiah doesn't understand is that I don't keep my secrets to myself just because I want to. I just don't want to be any more different than I have to be. I'm already the odd ball. Why would I let my family know about something else that's wrong with me? I just want to be normal; well as normal as a Kent can be.

"Uh, Mosey; I think you're parents want your attention."

That sounds about right. They haven't said anything for the last couple of seconds or so. I'm not so lucky that they're just mulling over that bit of information Jeremiah just gave them. They're probably staring at me, waiting for me to tell them that he's a liar. The only problem is I don't have the courage to look up at them that he's not. Not really.

But I do get up enough courage to look at them; and I physically flinch at the sight. My dad's practically purple. He's like a volcano about to erupt; and when he does, I'll get the third degree; and my mother, she looks more _hurt _than anything else. But there's still a lot of anger there. I assume it's because I've been keeping such a huge secret from her Trust is a big issue with my family; and I failed to trust her.

"I have to go," Jeremiah says suddenly.

But my father has a different idea. He tells Jeremiah that he has to stay until he gets better answers; and Jeremiah's answer to that is he can't because he's moving away and he just stopped by to say goodbye to me.

I don't think my dad cares though. He sure doesn't look like he cares anyway.

"Let him go," my mother tells my father.

He looks back at her questioningly, because he doesn't want to let Jeremiah go. He wants more answers.

"I think we should talk to Moira now," is my mother's answer.

My father nods his head in understanding; before nodding his head in Jeremiah's direction as well, giving him permission to leave.

But Jeremiah doesn't leave. He turns to me and takes a deep breath. I recognize the look; he's about to do something he doesn't want to. I take a step back, and hope he's not planning on kissing me goodbye in order to keep with the boyfriend/girlfriend charade.

"You didn't say goodbye last night baby girl," he says.

Baby girl. It's what his mother always calls me.

"That's one of the reasons I came. I know you're mad at me; but can I say goodbye to you?"

I nearly cry then. I'm positive he's giving me a message from Miss Morgan. It makes me feel like I'm never gonna see her again; and what makes it worse is that I don't even get to tell her goodbye in person. I have to use her son.

I nod my head, giving him permission to hug me.

He steps toward me quickly, he probably can't wait to get this over with; but as I wrap my arms around him, I close my eyes and pretend I'm hugging his mother instead.

"Don't cry," he says when I sniffle a little.

I want to tell him that I'm not crying but I don't; because I am. Stupid little tears have leaked out of the corner of my eyes despite how hard I've been fighting them.

He hugs me tighter and kisses the side of my face. It's so weird; but because I know it's coming from Miss Morgan and not him, it doesn't _completely_ creep me out. Not even when he tells me that he loves me. Jeremiah doesn't love me; but his mother does, she's never said it before; but I've always known that she loves me.

"I love you too," I tell him.

He pulls back and smiles at me. A real smile that I'm sure is coming from his mother. I feel so bad that it's come to this; that she's satisfied with this kind of goodbye. It's sad that she doesn't feel like she can come see me in person.

"It looks good," he says to me while picking up one of my braids, almost as if he's admiring the new length.

I nearly roll my eyes. "Jeremiah's" back.

"I told you my mom would do a good job," he smirks before dropping the braid and turning his attention to my parents. I actually kinda forgot about them. I don't know how as they're about to kill me.

"It was nice meeting you," Jeremiah tells them.

They don't say anything back to him. Apparently it wasn't nice meeting him.

I walk him to the door. My parents follow close behind me; and I watch him go; but only because I don't want to give my parents my attention right now. I'm a procrastinator; especially when it comes to getting into trouble.

Jeremiah walks past my siblings almost without a single word. I say "almost" because he _does _say goodbye to Noley just before she gets on her bus. I watch him stoop low so that he's at eye level with her; and I watch him tell her "a secret." It makes me smile because I think he actually likes her. Maybe there's hope for him yet.

"You should savor that smile Moira. I don't think you'll be doing it again anytime soon."

My mother. God, she sounds pissed; and if she's that angry, I don't even want to think about how angry my father must be. He's usually the harsher of the two; well, toward me and my brothers anyway.

I turn around slowly and lock eyes with her.

"Talk," she commands.

I grimace. It's never good when my parents use one-syllable sentences.

My father swears softly to himself. It startles both me and my mother. My dad never swears. He excuses himself; kisses my mother, and commands me to stay put. I stare after him, knowing he doesn't want to leave; and wondering just how bad it is. I mean, it's got to be bad if my father is leaving at a time like this. Maybe it's a plane full of people, a school bus full of small children, a really bad earthquake; it's got to be something of that magnitude. I'm sure of it. I'm also a bit happy and I breathe a sigh of relief; maybe by the time my father gets back he will have cooled down a bit.

My relief is short lived though. My mother yells at me; and tells me that just because my father left, it doesn't mean that I'm off the hook.

I look at her, fear written all over my face. She's right. She can be just as bad as my father when she wants to be. She just hasn't been yet; not with me anyway.

"So you've been sneaking out since you were _seven_?"

I almost tell her that I was nearly eight years old at the time; but I really think she'll lose what little patience she has with me if I do. What does it matter that I was almost eight? Eight is still way too young to be sneaking off.

"I'm sorry Mama," I tell her instead; but apparently it's not what she wants to hear because she yells at me again.

"Are you sorry about what you did? Or are you sorry you finally got caught because there's no way you can be sorry about what you've done because if you were, you would've stopped two, three, four, maybe even eight years ago!" She yells all in one breath. Her face is nearly purple because of the effort and energy that took out of her.

I almost tell her I'm sorry again; but the last time didn't work out so well, so I just keep my mouth shut.

"Well? Say something," my mother commands.

But I don't know _what_ to say.

"I'm waiting," she tells me.

"What do you want me to say," I ask her softly; though my gaze is fixated on the ground.

"Start from the beginning," she commands.

"I'm not going to school today, am I?" I ask her; because honestly, to tell her everything from the beginning will take a full day.

"You're a smart girl. You tell me," she answers.

I sigh. The answer is no; I'm not going to school today.

The beginning, I think a little to myself, starts with Dawn; because it really is my fault that she's dead. I think my mother thinks I feel guilty because I didn't get to her in time; but it's only because she doesn't know what happened. And I _don't_ want her to know what really happened that day.

The truth is, I saw Dawn die. I was on my way to school and I was getting on the bus when I saw the accident. The only problem was I didn't see it in a physical sense. It was like some kind of intense daydream. I saw the man that was driving, saw the way that he could barely keep his eyes open, I saw the way his car kept swerving, I saw Dawn waiting in front of her gate, and I saw her bend down to tie her shoes. She didn't get to finish. That's when the car hit her. Then it was over.

I blinked a few times and brushed it away, not understanding why I would think of something so horrible; especially as a seven year old. And besides, the bus driver was rushing me to get on the bus.

I sat alone, not because Johnny had his own friends and didn't want to sit by me; but because Johnny and I both had our own friends. His friend was a boy named Wynton, and my friend was Dawn. I always had to sit alone at first because Dawn's was the last stop on the bus route.

When I saw her, I was relieved; we were still kinda far away; but I could see that she was just fine. Then she bent down to tie her shoes; and I saw the car coming, the same one as before and I freaked out. I tried to get off the bus to get to her; but the bus driver wouldn't let me. Not until it was too late. I don't think he meant for me to get out; but when Dawn got hit by the car, he got out of the bus and he left the door open.

That's when I ran; that's when I got hurt and fell into the stream; and that's when I met Jeremiah.

Jeremiah. Not Heath. That's the beginning I can start with. I can tell my mother Jeremiah's real name; because I'm not ready to tell her about Dawn yet.

"His name isn't Heath, it's Jeremiah" I say.

"Jeremiah?" she frowns.

Her tone piques my curiosity just a little. It's almost like she knows him, or is familiar with the name at least.

"What's his last name?" she asks me. She looks so scared and nervous; and it almost makes me afraid to tell her.

"Moira, what's his last name," she asks a little more firmly when I hesitate.

"Loveleigh," I tell her. I don't think it's his real last name; not if Lex Luthor is his father. It makes sense for him and his mother not to use Luthor; but I tell my mother anyway because I honestly know him as Jeremiah Loveleigh.

"Loveleigh," my mother practically chokes; but I don't pay attention. It's happening again. It's odd; because the last time it happened was with Dawn. It never happened again after that. I guess it has something to do with me being traumatized by what happened the last time or something, I'm not sure. All I know is that it's happening again; and another friend of mine is in trouble; Miss Morgan.

"Mama, I have to go," I tell her suddenly. I just saw Miss Morgan being held against her will; and I know exactly where she is. I've been there before because it was one of Jeremiah and his mother's many homes. I'd try to find my father and send him to help her but I don't think I have enough time. I won't be able to forgive myself if I don't make it in time for Miss Morgan. I'm absolutely determined not to fail her the way I failed Dawn.

My mother grabs onto my arm. I stop; she's not strong enough to stop me; but if she's not careful she can get hurt.

"Where are you going?" she asks in a slight panic.

I cut straight to the chase; because I _really _have to go. I have absolutely no time to waste.

"Lana's in trouble," I say, using the name I know she'll recognize and hoping she'll contact my dad to send him to her aid.

But she doesn't; she just freezes.

I make a move to leave; like I said, time is of the essence; but she screams out a horrified "no!"

It makes me pause, albeit a bit impatiently.

"Mama, I have to go, she needs me," I reason.

"Baby, Lana's dead," she says in a rush while grabbing my arms in a desperate sort of panic.

Why didn't I think of that before? No wonder she's freaking out. The Lana she knows is dead; has been dead for about sixteen years.

"She's not dead, Mama. She's my friend," I explain to her.

My mother shakes her head and holds on tighter to me.

It makes me frown. I really have to go; and she's making it hard because I don't want to leave her like this, but I really do have to go.

"Mama, let go," I plead.

She doesn't. She yells for my brother instead. If he gets a hold of me, I'll never be able to get to Miss Morgan.

I shake my mother loose as gently as I can and I run. I hear her scream my name repeatedly but I continue to run as fast as I can. I know they're behind me. I don't know who they are; maybe Johnny and Andrew; or Johnny and Casey; maybe all three. I don't look behind myself to find out, I just take off; and I'm not running anymore, I'm flying. I've never done it in front of any of my siblings because I've been waiting for one of them to do it, then I'd do it so that I wouldn't be the odd ball; but they haven't. Now, I don't have a choice. I rise quickly, the need to get to Miss Morgan on time propels me to go faster than I've ever flown in my life.

Suddenly, I feel myself going through concrete. It happened so fast and it came out of nowhere; in fact I still don't really know what happened. Last I remember, I was airborne. Now, I'm definitely not. I look around myself, trying to get my bearings. I recognize my surroundings almost immediately. Reeves Dam.

"What's gotten into you, Lizzy!"

Johnny.

That's my brother's voice. I guess he can fly too.

"Where is it?" he shouts.

He appears in front of me, pins me down, and starts checking me. I don't know what for until I hear him start mumbling about "stupid rocks" under his breath.

I push him away from me; hard enough to send him crashing through a few nearby trees. We've never gotten into it before; and I don't like it. Not one bit. But I can't believe he thinks I have some Red K on me.

I try to run again; but I end up eating concrete again. God, he's fast; and strong. And I guess it doesn't help that I'm not really trying to fight him. He is my brother after all; though that doesn't seem to stop him from using his full strength against me.

I make a deal with myself. I'm only gonna do this once; and only because I have a life to safe. As soon as I'm done helping Miss Morgan I'll turn myself into my parents and let them do whatever they want with me; and I'll apologize a million times to my brother.

I charge at Johnny; putting him through some concrete as well; and then we go at it. He's determined to get me home; and I'm determined to save a woman's life. It's one hell of a fight; until he puts me through more concrete and the dam breaks.

I use that to my advantage. I leave. All that water, headed toward the town; and I trust my brother to stop it. I know he will. He won't let other people get hurt behind this. I don't want to think about what that means about me; but I'm pretty sure my aunt's right. I'm irresponsible and selfish; but that still doesn't stop me from getting to Miss Morgan.

What stops me is Miss Morgan herself.

When I get to the house, I can see that she's fine. Better than fine actually. She's sitting on the porch steps, almost as if she's been waiting for me.

I approach her cautiously, looking around myself warily. I don't know how; but something feels wrong. Maybe the person who was holding her in my vision is around here somewhere. Maybe he made her sit out here and wait for me; which means this is a trap and I should definitely leave; but I don't. Even if it is a trap; I have to try to save Miss Morgan.

Once I'm in front of her, I ask her if she's okay.

She looks at me, and I don't know how else to describe the look but "cold," like she has no emotions or feelings whatsoever.

"Are you absolutely sure this is the one you want," she says as if she's disgusted by the sight of me. "There is another."

I look to my left; and just as I do, a man appears beside me. I immediately know I'm in trouble. He's fast; probably Kryptonian.

He smiles at me; like he's been waiting for me for a very long time.

"I am sure," he tells Miss Morgan, his eyes never leaving my face. Then he grabs me, and I fight him, I really do; but he's really strong. So I scream; or try to anyway; but he covers my mouth, muffling the sound.

He takes me inside. I remember this place; it's one of the few that have a basement; and just as I think about it, that's where we start to head; down the hall toward the basement.

Upon approaching the door, I start to feel dizzy. I start to panic. If I feel dizzy, that must mean I'm getting close to blue kryptonite. I keep my eyes open, searching for it; but I really don't need to search long. It's on the door, lined up against the entire frame.

I shake my head, trying to let my captor know that I don't want to go down there. It's silly of me because of course he knows, that's _why_ he's taking me.

I bite his hand when we get closer to the door; not to be difficult; but because I'm in so much pain that I can't help it. My head feels like it's going to split into two and it literally feels like someone's throwing softballs at my head.

Then the pain is gone, like it never was. We're no longer anywhere near the door. We're in the basement, with the door shut; which means my family won't be able to hear me scream. The whole room's covered in lead paint.

"Wh-who are you?" I stammer. Not that it matters. Names won't do me any good in here.

"I am Zod," the one who carried me down here tells me; and I wish he'd ignored me. I remember that name. It was in my mother's journal. He's the terrorist; the one who tried to kill everyone.

I'm going to die. He's going to kill me; I'm sure of it. I'm the daughter of Kal-el. He's probably going to make sure it hurts.

"General Zod, this is the weak one," Miss Morgan hisses. "I beg you, take the other."

I nearly protest when Zod speaks up. "You imply that I am weak as well!" he says, his eyes flashing so dangerously that I take a step back though he isn't talking to me.

Miss Morgan, though I don't think she's actually "Miss Morgan," bows her head and speaks in a low tone.

"I do not mean that you are weak General. I believe you should choose your mate wisely. Do you wish for your heir to be born with the same _limitations _as you and her? Or do you want him to know no limits?"

'_Mate? Heir?"_

"I can't mate…uh get married or have children," I blurt out loud in a panic. Because I think I'd rather die; and I'm not being melodramatic.

Zod smiles at me. He's amused; but Miss Morgan stops him and tells him that I'm right. I nearly smile; but then she tells him that I haven't become a woman yet; therefore under Kryptonian laws I am not eligible for "bonding."

"This is not Krypton," Zod reminds her; but she doesn't back down.

"You want to rebuild Krypton here on earth! You cannot do that by behaving as primitive as the savages that already inhabit this planet. We must stay true to ours ways and traditions. We have been given a second chance, or do you wish for this planet to suffer as ours did?" Miss Morgan asks.

Zod turns his attention toward me after agreeing with Morgan. I know that's not Miss Morgan; but I don't know what else to call her.

I back away when he walks toward me.

"Soon," is all he says before heading for the stairs and leaving me with Morgan.

I don't care that she's not really Miss Morgan; and that she's here, watching me. I sit down on the floor and cry without shame. I want to go home. I want my mother, my father, my brothers, my sisters, my whole family; I'd even settle for Jeremiah.

And what I _don't_ want, is to "become a woman" anytime soon. I've gone this long without a cycle. Hopefully I can go fifteen more years.


	9. Chapter 9

**Jeremy Shane, Anonymous: **Thanks!

**DS: **I know, I feel bad for Chloe too. Prepare to feel worse for her.

**The fallen sky: **You know, I figured it was time to let everyone know why Moira was so different from the other kids. Lol. Of course, since I knew before I even began writing "Waiting for Him," The surprise kinda lost its surprise appeal to me and became old news.

Lol. The Lois hug was fun because you're right, she's not a very emotional person; or she wasn't before season nine. I like her best that way; but I figured she'd give Moira a hug after the kid disappeared like that. Who knows what she'll give her after this incident;)

Heath/Jeremiah _is_ an arrogant SOB; but it's not his fault. Sort of. Like I told you before, you'll get to learn why he's such an ass. He had his reasons for tattling on Moira; but they were definitely selfish reasons. And it is interesting that Johnny assumed Moira hid Jeremiah's shirt under Casey's bed. See, Casey's not so bad. Sometimes.

Ah, the Jeremiah/Morgan/Moira goodbye. Jeremiah's an ass; but he doesn't really _hate _Moira or Morgan that much. Otherwise, I'm sure he would've refused to do the goodbye in the first place. And don't worry, he didn't tell Noley to do anything too bad;)

Lol. The wrath of a mother. I know it well;) Honestly, Moira's power, and where it came from, is a surprise;)

**Shonnia22: **Lol. Your review tickled me. the fact that you called Zod an eww was hilarious.

**Dizzy78: **Hmm. I don't know how to answer any of your questions without giving anything away; although I think it's safe for me to say that Jeremiah is Charlie's son.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

She has no right to smile. It's a selfish thought on my part. Who am I to think another person doesn't have the _right _to smile; but I can't help it. She's smiling after Heath, almost wistfully, and before I can stop myself I tell her that she should savor the smile because she won't be doing very much of it any time soon.

She turns around slowly, locking her eyes with mine. She looks so scared, but I'm beyond feeling sorry for her at this point.

"Talk," I command.

My husband squeezes my hand, letting me know that he wants to talk now.

He wanted to talk before as well; but I discouraged him. I could tell he wanted to grill Heath and Moira relentlessly about the events of last night as well as everything Heath let slip earlier until they gave him the answers he wanted; and then he would deal with Moira accordingly. But I had a feeling that wouldn't work, so I stopped him. I didn't have to say anything to him. I just held onto his wrist firmly and shook my head.

I wanted _Jeremiah_ to talk. I wanted him to talk for as long as he was willing to talk; and I wanted him to talk about _whatever _he wanted to talk about.

Before Moira disappeared yesterday, I would've sworn on my life that Moira's the easiest of my children to wheedle information from; even _with_ the realization that she was hiding something from me. I let it go, convincing myself that it was something harmless; something I could easily get out of her if I really wanted; and that I hadn't tried yet because it's okay for a girl to have some secrets. Everyone has secrets.

I'd been wrong.

"Damn it," my husband curses beside me.

We look up at him; both me and Moira. It's not a vulgar word in the least; but he's not in the practice of swearing. Something's not right.

He excuses himself, kisses me goodbye, and tells my daughter to stay put. Then he's gone. I imagine it's got to be something extremely important; something only he can handle and not any other member of the league can fix because _this_ is pretty important.

I look back at Moira. There's relief on her face. Relief! I'm not the parent she's afraid of. I've never been. I don't think I've ever yelled at or disciplined Moira before. I never felt that I had to. She was always such a good girl; and when she did slip up, it was usually something small and I let her get away with it. I've been too busy feeling sorry for her because of the fact that she seems a bit more lonely and withdrawn than my other children; and of course, my initial thoughts of her had a huge part to play in the way I dealt with her; but I realize that the way I deal with her, the way she views me, and just our whole relationship in general, needs to change. And now is as good of a time as any for me to start making that change.

"You're father left Moira Elizabeth; but that doesn't mean you're off the hook!" I admonish steely.

She blinks at me. I can see the relief begin to drain from her face, and I watch almost satisfactorily as the fear and nervousness begins to take its place. She's realized that today is different; that I'm different. That I'm not going to let her slide if she gives me a sad face and a sob story.

"So, you've been sneaking out since you were _seven_," I continue while putting a heavy emphasis on the word and age "seven."

She looks a bit hesitant; as if she has something to say; but doesn't have the courage to say it. I can feel myself start to get angrier as I'm reminded of how she just stood by and let Heath talk for her. I couldn't tell if she was too scared to talk, or if she just didn't _want_ to and had _refused_ to talk; and if the answer is the latter then I truly do not know my daughter at all. I thought I did. I thought I was the closest to Moira. Not that I love her more; I just thought she was the easiest to understand, to get along with, to talk to, to depend on. That's why I was so afraid when she disappeared yesterday.

I imagined my worst fears and nightmares had come to past. I was so sure someone took her because I thought of Moira as such a responsible child, one who would _never _disappear without a word for hours at a time; but then she called me to let me know she was fine at about five thirty. When I tried to get her to come home, I couldn't. Neither could my husband. She wouldn't tell us anything; not what had happened, not where she was, nothing. She just said she'd be home in a few hours before hanging up. And just like she said I would, I had to wait nearly three hours for her to come home. _I_, as a mother, had to wait for my _fifteen_ year old daughter to come home when she felt like it; on her time; and there was absolutely _nothing_ I could do about it. Not counting the time Clark spent away in the phantom zone, I'd never felt so frustrated, powerless, and angry in my life.

I remember feeling relief when she first appeared in front of me; but then I quickly turned to anger; which I couldn't hold onto. She was crying; more than crying actually. She was _distraught. _Somehow she remembered what I said about her; that I'd called her a thing the day she was born. My anger faded away, and was replaced by hurt. Hurt for her, and hurt for myself.

I'd already come to terms with the fact that there wasn't an accident, and that no one took my child. But at that moment, I realized something that actually hurt _me_. Moira ran away from me. The thought wounded me more than the recurring nightmares I've been having about her being taken. But I calmed down some after having some time to think about it; and I tried to make myself believe that it didn't matter. Moira ran away to clear her head; she even acted out a bit by cutting her hair; and I took comfort in the fact that she came back. No matter how upset she was, she came back; and had always planned on coming back because even though she remembered what sheI did, we were still family and she belonged at home with me, her father, and her siblings.

Those had been my thoughts last night and part of this morning. Those had been my thoughts before Heath came. But while he was here, I learned something that pained me even more than the fact that my daughter ran away from me. Moira had a place to run _to_; another place she could possibly call home. I could tell by the way she and Heath were together. The boy claimed to be Moira's boyfriend; and he said a lot of other things. I wasn't so sure at first. I watched my daughter the whole time he ran his mouth; just to gauge her reactions to his words. He seemed to be telling the truth about most things. I could tell by the expressions on Moira's face; but as far as Moira being his girlfriend, that was the part I wasn't so sure about. She didn't seem to like the boy that much. Maybe he liked her more than she liked him. Maybe the attraction was _completely_ one-sided; on his part obviously. Maybe she made a mistake similar to the one I made when I was her age. All of those maybes seemed quite possible to me; until then they had a _moment_, one that completely shook me. He was about to say something she didn't want him to say when her eyes grew wide and she screamed "Don't."

He stopped talking. Just like that. This boy, who stood shirtless in my kitchen, ate Casey's breakfast without having the decency to ask who it belonged to, let alone permission to have it; this boy, who stared my husband down unflinchingly while claiming to be my daughter's boyfriend; this boy who seemed to have no fear, respect or a care for others, stopped talking when my daughter told him to. No, he didn't stop talking when she yelled at him to shut up. He yelled back at her and my hold tightened on Clark's wrist immediately. He wanted to jump in, possibly put the boy in a very tight choke hold and make him apologize to our daughter for raising his voice; but I stopped him once again. I wanted to help my daughter too; but she'd just yelled at the boy. I've never heard Moira yell at anyone; not even Casey who deserved it a few times in my opinion. I stopped my husband from going to her rescue because people let all sorts of things during a heated exchange. I wanted to learn as much as possible before Moira shut down. I'd just learned the night before that if Moira's not willing to talk, she won't.

But I didn't have to wait that long. As Heath argued back at her, she shut her mouth again, looking to the ground as she silently fumed, sighed, ad rolled her eyes. Not that it lasted very long. A few seconds later was when she yelled "Don't" and he listened. It interested me that he would listen then, he didn't listen when she was angry; but when she was panicked. And the _look _he gave her afterward. He seemed…_disappointed _in her. Maybe they were _something _to each other after all. At least there seemed to be a sliver of deference and understanding for one another.

And the goodbye. When he told her goodbye, my grip tightened on my husband's wrist so hard it hurt. Come to think of it, that's probably why he didn't interrupt them. He probably misunderstood my action and thought I was trying to keep him still. But I wasn't. I was more than hurting. My daughter hugged this boy goodbye as if he was truly her boyfriend, her best friend, her _family_. He told her he loved her, and she told him she loves him too; and she was crying about it, over him. Then he pulled back, kissed her, and smiled at her while twirling one of her braids in his hand; one of her much shorter braids. He made a comment about his mother doing a good job and I nearly lost it. _His _mother cut my baby's hair. It's crazy and irrational, but I couldn't help but to feel like I'd been replaced in a way.

"I'm sorry mama," Moira whispers.

Before I can even think about what I'm going to say back to her, words start flying out of my mouth. Loud words. I'm yelling; "Are you sorry about what you did? Or are you sorry you finally got caught because there's no way you can be sorry about what you've done because if you were, you would've stopped two, three, four, maybe even eight years ago!"

She makes that face at me again; like she wants to say something but can't or won't let it out.

"Well, say something," I command forcefully. I've had enough secrets and silence from her for one day; for a whole lifetime in fact.

She doesn't answer; just grabs onto her right arm with her left hand. I recognize the stance. She stood that way the whole time Heath stood in or kitchen talking about things Moira knew she'd be in trouble for.

She's nervous.

"I'm waiting," I tell her.

"What do you want me to say," she finally answers; though she doesn't look at me. She keeps her eyes downcast.

"Start from the beginning," I command. I'm about to tell her to look me in my eyes when she's talking to me when she looks behind herself. She's looking through the window.

"I'm not going to school today, am I?" she asks.

I too glance out the window; but I don't see the school bus. She must hear it coming.

"You're a smart girl. You tell me," I answer her.

She sighs, letting me know that she's come to the right conclusion.

"His name isn't Heath; it's Jeremiah," she murmurs a few seconds later.

I honestly don't know how I expected her to start off her next sentence; but I can honestly say that I wasn't expecting _that_.

"Jeremiah?" I repeat back to her questioningly.

That was Charlie's middle name and the thought makes a small shiver run up my spine. I never knew Charlie's middle name when he was alive; but I never forgot it after he died.

"What's his last name," I ask my daughter; hoping, _praying_, for a coincidence.

She looks confused; though she shouldn't be. It shouldn't shock her at all that I would want to know the last name of the boy who stood right there in my kitchen and claimed to be her boyfriend.

"Moira, what's his last name?" I repeat firmly.

"Loveleigh."

"Loveleigh?" I parrot once again. Loveleigh was Charlie's last name. How can she say it so calm and matter of factly? Of course, on a rational level I understand why. She never knew Charlie. I don't think I've ever mentioned him before; not even in passing. She doesn't know that Charlie Loveleigh is dead; died the day she was born. The day Lana died as well. She doesn't know about anything like that. I don't think she even knows what Lana looks like. I thought about showing her when she was younger, just in case my nightmares weren't just that; nightmares; but I didn't feel like I needed to. I mentioned the name Lana to her a few times, and I watched her carefully while I said it. In my nightmares, Moira always told me that Lana was her friend; but when I mentioned my friend's name to her, Moira didn't seem too interested in her; nor did a flicker of recognition register on her face. I tried it a few more times as she got older; but still nothing. Moira didn't t know a Lana Lang.

"Mama, I have to go," my daughter says suddenly; pulling me out of my reverie.

I grab onto her arm quickly and ask her where she's going. I understand the school bus is probably outside; but there's no way Moira's going to school today. I thought I made it more than clear that we need to talk. And apparently we have a lot more to talk about than what I originally thought. Like Lana, and Lex, even my nightmare. She was supposed to read about the rest of that in my journals; but that got cut short, and I postponed it until after school. Now, I feel as though we need to talk about it ASAP, because something's not right. I can feel it.

Moira moves her arm a little; letting me know that she wants to leave; but I hold on firmly. I'm about to ask her who Jeremiah's father is. I'm pretty sure it's Charlie; though the boy doesn't really look much like Charlie. They only share eye color; dark brown almost black; much like the ones Moira have. But I of all people know that doesn't mean much. The boy could've inherited his looks from his mother; just as Moira apparently inherited all her looks from Clark and his side of the family.

"Lana's in trouble."

I go still. My body, my mouth, my mind; everything goes still when I hear that name come out of my daughter's mouth. She's not supposed to know Lana. Lana's dead.

She turns a little; like she's going to go to her; but I scream out a horrified "no!"

This can't be happening. It's all wrong. In my nightmares, Lana comes to me. She turns into Lex; and then he takes my daughter away by force. He has to because my daughter is always kicking and screaming; calling for me, begging for me to save her.

Right now, Moira's not kicking and screaming at all. No one's trying to take her away. She wants to go. She wants to leave me.

This isn't anything like my nightmares. It's ten times worse.

"Mama, I have to go, she needs me," Moira pleads.

I shake my head. Lana doesn't need anybody. She's dead.

"Baby, Lana's dead," I say out loud. As gifted as she is; Moira can't read minds. She doesn't know about any of my fears or thoughts, so I have to be verbal. I have to tell her everything right now, and quickly, or she'll disappear. I just know it.

"She's not dead Mama. She's my friend."

I figured those were the next words I'd hear coming out of her mouth. They always are; she always tells me Lana's her friend in my nightmares. Just seconds before she's taken.

"Mama, let go," she pleads.

I shake my head. I'm not letting her go. I don't care if she hates me for the rest of her life for this.

"Jonathan," I yell at the top of my lungs; the tone of my voice letting him know that I need him _immediately_.

I keep my eyes on my daughter's face; and that's how I'm able to see the look of sheer panic on her face just before she shrugs me off and disappears.

My son appears before me not even a second afterward and I'm already crying; screaming for Moira to come back. Jonathan leaves just upon seeing how distressed I am over Moira's absence. I feel a little hope start to fill me up because I know he's going after her.

It's to Andrew and Casey that I have to make my request verbally known to them.

"Go get her," I plead in between shaky breaths.

They both hesitate; but for different reasons. Andrew takes a step toward me, concern and confusion written all over his face. I don't blame him; he's never seen me like this before. He's worried.

I shake my head, letting him know that I'll be alright.

"Just bring her back to me," I breathe.

He hesitates just a half a second more before disappearing.

Casey, on the other hand hesitates because; well, I'm not exactly sure why. Not until Andrew leaves and she's still standing there staring at me. The look on her face is not one of concern or compassion, she looks almost angry. I can't imagine why she would be. We had a good morning, she didn't even fight with Noley over her outfit of choice, which happened to be just as _colorful_, if not more, than the one she wore yesterday.

"Please," I beg, not taking the time to figure her out. I don't have a lot of time.

She sighs a little before she too disappears; and as much as I want her out there trying to bring her sister back; I can't help but feel like I don't want to be alone. The image of Moira's face just before she disappeared has been etched so deeply into my brain that I know I'll never forget it. I'll never forget that my own daughter ran from me yet again. And I'll never be able to forget that panic and fear were the last expressions on my daughter's face before she left.

I don't want to remember her being alarmed or afraid. I would rather remember her smiling. God, I'm thinking this to myself as if I'll never see her again.

I take a deep breath. I need to do something; anything. I _will _see my daughter again.

I pull out my phone, not even having to dial his number because he's on speed dial; has been for fifteen years.

But Grady doesn't answer. I start to feel even more panic fill me. Grady always answers my calls. Always. No matter what he's doing; and no matter what time I place the call.

But he's not answering now; and I get the feeling he'll never answer again. I try not to be a pessimist; but I can't help it. Not with what's going on right now.

I call the hospital itself, Metropolis General. He wasn't always being treated there. For a good four years he'd been all over the place. Lionel Luthor tried to get his son the best care possible; the best treatment his money could buy. But his money was worthless. No doctor could help Lex Luthor. He remained unconscious for fifteen years. I pray he's still unconscious.

The woman who answers my call is short with me, almost frantic. My thoughts immediately go there. There's no doubt in my mind that the whole hospital is in a frenzy. Lex Luthor, _the_ Lex Luthor, is probably conscious; has awakened from a coma of fifteen years.

"Has Lex Luthor awakened?" I ask while gripping my phone so tightly that I wince; but at the same time I don't loosen my hold.

"Sorry ma'am, you're gonna have to just get in line behind all the other reporters," the woman answers before hanging the phone up on me. She did it wrong, professionally speaking. She should've told me that unless I'm a family member she is not legally allowed to disclose any personal information about any of her patients. But if Lex is truly awake; and has disappeared from the hospital because he's fast, strong, and quite possibly Zod, then it's understandable for her to be a little rattled; And if that is truly the case, it is not understandable for me to be so frozen right now. I should be moving. My daughter is in danger. I should be doing _something_.

I begin to move. Quickly. I head for the living room and turn on the TV. Even though Lex Luthor has been out of the picture for so long that I doubt my children know who he is, I imagine his resurrection would be important enough to make the news.

And I was right. His face, a picture of his face is the first thing I see as soon as my screen comes to life. I've suffered a little hearing loss because of the shock; but I can read just as well. Lex Luthor is awake and has escaped, singlehandedly leaving dozens injured and one dead.

I turn off the TV before the woman can tell me the name of the deceased. I don't want to know if it was Grady. I can't handle that right now. I can't handle much of anything right now.

My phone is still in my hand; and surprisingly it's not broken. I call my husband; both verbally and by phone. I don't know if he hears me or not. I'm hoping he doesn't because if he _can_ hear me yelling for him, he's choosing not to come. I know that he's busy; probably saving someone's child's life; but selfishly I want him to come to me to save our own child. I don't know what kind of person that makes me. A bad one for sure; but in my mind, I've rationalized it; justified my actions so to speak. I've convinced myself that the loss of his daughter would be crippling for him in a way; that he'd never be the same afterward; that he wouldn't be any good to the citizens of this country as well as other countries if he lost her.

"Clark!" I yell once more. Once more because I'm not going to do it again. As much as I want to, I can't make him stop whatever's he's doing if it's that important. It's not right.

I hear the front door open and I run to it; hoping it's Clark, or my children with my captured daughter.

I'm partially right. The person who comes through my door is my daughter; just the _wrong _daughter.

"Casey, what are you doing here?" I shout.

She blinks at me.

"You're supposed to be out there looking for Moira!" I continue.

I see a muscle in her jaw twitch. It lets me know that she's losing patience with me. It hurts as well as ticks me off. I know I must appear to be a raving lunatic right now; but my daughter has run away again; and she's in trouble. I can feel it. Why can't Casey see that? Why can't she just put away the contempt she feels toward her sister for just a few minutes and help find her.

"She's your sister, Casey!" I yell at her.

I watch her look up toward the ceiling before exhaling a heavy sigh. She's trying to keep herself from getting angry. I can't even begin to fathom why _she _would be angry.

"I _know _she's my sister, Mom; but I couldn't keep up with her. John and Andrew are still chasing her," She says evenly, almost as if it's taking a _lot_ of energy from her to keep her voice so steady.

"You didn't even try!" I accuse.

"Why don't _you_ try keeping up with her; you're the one who let her get away in the first place!" she snaps back at me out of pure frustration. She even goes as far as to ball her fists up on either side of her head before throwing her arms down to her side forcefully. She's careful enough not to hit anything for fear of destroying anything her hands come into contact with; but the gesture, as well as her words, was still enough; more than enough actually. It stops me cold.

In a way, she's right. I _did_ let Moira get away from me. I should've called Jonathan sooner, I should've held on tighter, there are a million little 'should'ves' I could've done to keep Moira from getting away; but I can't keep up with her. Casey knows that.

She stares back at me, defiant, unwilling to apologize for her outburst.

I shake my head slowly. I don't understand her. I don't understand why she's so angry with me most of the time; or why she seems to hate her sister. It doesn't make any sense. They used to be close when they were younger; so close I used to tease Jonathan about being jealous of his sisters' bond.

She shakes her head too; as if she doesn't understand me either before rolling her eyes and leaving.

"Casey, come back here!" I yell.

But she doesn't. I hear her go up the stairs; and I hear a door slam so loud that I'm more than sure she wanted me to hear it. I kind of expected it; but it startles me all the same. I even jump a little.

"Mom!"

I jump again at the sound of Andrew's, voice; but I don't turn around. He's bringing me bad news. I can tell by the tone of his voice.

"Mom!" he repeats after appearing in front of me.

I have to consciously make an effort to keep my face together because all I want to do is fall apart.

"I couldn't keep up with her; well, I was doing just fine until she _flew_ away!" he says while pacing back and forth in front of me.

"Flew?" I whisper. It's a barely audible whisper; but my son's got excellent hearing; and he heard me.

"Yeah, _flew_ away!" he exclaims. "I didn't know she could fly; did you know she could fly?" he pauses and asks me; and before I can answer, _if_ I was going to answer, he begins to pace and talk again; whether to himself, or to me, I'm not sure.

I'm too busy thinking and wondering back to the argument Moira had with Hea- Jeremiah. He was about to say something she didn't want me to hear. Something that began with, 'do they even know you can". I wonder, was this what he was talking about? Does that boy, Jeremiah, know that my daughter can fly? If so, he knows her better than me. He knows _my _little girl better than me.

I shake my head. Needing to be done and over with being hurt because of all of the secrets my daughter kept from me. At least for now. I need to concentrate on finding her. We'll deal with everything else later.

"Did you hear me mom?"

I blink and look over at my son. The answer is no. I didn't hear him.

He doesn't seem to need a verbal yes or no because he's obviously decided that it doesn't matter. He's going to repeat himself whether I heard him or not.

"I said, John went after her; just flew away! Did you know _he _could fly too?"

I stare at him blankly. I'd just come to the conclusion that I should stop worrying about all the secrets Moira's kept from me and start concentrating on finding her; but my son, he can fly too? Are they all keeping things from me? Do they all have secrets as huge as this?

Secrets.

At the thought of the word I run up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Andrew calls after me; but I tell him to just keep looking for Moira.

Moira told me she has secrets written in her journal when I asked her what she writes about. I asked her what kind of secrets; but she didn't answer me; and now I know why.

If I can find her journal, or journals, maybe there will be something in there that can help me find her. It's a long shot; but it's better than sitting around, doing nothing, and waiting for my boys to come home with or without Moira.

I realize I can get in my car and search for her; but with as fast as Moira can run, and fly, she could be anywhere by now.

I open my girls' room door quickly and the sight of Casey lying down with her phone attached to her ear sends me into a slight rage. I hurry to her, snatch the phone away, and hang up on whoever she was talking to.

"Mom! I was"-

"I don't care about who the hell you were talking to Kristin!" I yell back at her. I've had it with her. The temper, the nasty attitudes; there's no reason she should act this way. _None_.

"Get up and go help find your sister!"

She stands up quickly and snatches her phone back from me.

"That's what I'm trying to do," she snarls.

I want to hit her; and the only thing stopping me from doing so is that fact that it won't hurt her. It'll hurt me. I want to hate her; but I can't. She's my daughter and before I can dredge up the hateful feeling, I always remember the way she was when she was a little girl and I hold onto it. She was a good girl; much like my Moira; just stronger. I know, I'm a bad mother, I'm a bad person; I'm just a bad everything; and Casey seems to be the one bringing it all out of me.

I watch as she leaves the room quickly; and I'm torn between wanting to go after her and doing what I set out to do in the first place. Find Moira's journals.

I quickly pick the journals. I'm about to start looking in her drawers when my phone rings. I'd forgotten that it was still in my hand. I answer it immediately; not even bothering to check the collar I.D first.

"Mrs. Kent," he breathes on the other line.

I swallow hard. Now I know that he's not dead; but he sounds like he's close. I can hear the sound of monitors as well as doctors and such being called over the loudspeakers. I shouldn't have put him in danger that way. He's just a human man. If I was honestly expecting Lex to awaken as Zod, I should have known he would injure the man I asked to guard him.

"I know, Grady," I tell him.

"I'm sorry," he says heavily.

I swallow the guilt as best as I can before telling him that it's okay ant get some rest.

I hang up; and just as I do, I get a call from Oliver. I get the déjà vu feeling right away. I've done this before. When Clark left for the fortress nearly sixteen years ago, I cried by my bedroom door for hours before I realized I could've called Oliver and the others to help look for Clark.

Granted, Moira's been gone for a total of three minutes, that totally feels more like hours; but I should've called the league immediately; the very _second _she left.

"Oliver," I answer; and before I can tell him what's going on, he's reassuring me that everything's going to be okay; Clark called him. He was at the hospital; has been for the past fifteen minutes doing damage control. Apparently, the newly arisen Lex Luthor set fire to some of the hospital wing with patients still inside.

I interruptd him there. _Fifteen _minutes and counting to put out fires? For a human, that's totally plausible; but not for Clark. He should've been done by now.

That's when Oliver hesitates and I grow worried.

"There's blue kryptonite all over the hospital," he informs me.

Blue K. Human. My husband is rescuing patients and putting out fires in a hospital as a human. He couldn't hear me calling for him before. And who knows when he'll be done with that. I can't say that I expect him to leave the hospital for the authorities to handle. He would never do it. Powers or not, it's his belief that he has to protect the innocent; even the not-so-innocent. He has to protect the people.

"Don't worry Chloe, Clark will be fine; and we'll find my niece," he continues quickly, probably so that I don't have much time to think about my problems. He then goes on to explain to me about what arrangements have been made in order to find Moira. He even goes as far as to let me know who's currently searching for her right now, this very second. It's a long list. The League has grown considerably within the last decade and a half.

Once he's done talking, I'm nearly speechless. Nearly.

"How did you know Moira's missing," I ask him.

"My goddaughter called me a few minutes ago," he tells me quickly before rushing off the phone because apparently Lois wants to talk to me.

Casey. I owe her an apology. She's Oliver's goddaughter; Oliver and Mia's. That one's a funny story, but I don't feel like thinking about a funny story right now. Not until I find my daughter.

"Chloe," Lois starts off. I want to hang up. I love my cousin; but I don't want to talk about my feelings, or my missing daughter. I just want to find her.

"Do you need me to come stay with you?"

I don't answer her. It's a tough question. I don't want to be alone; but I don't particularly want company either.

"I'm coming over," she decides before hanging up with an air of finality.

I think it's a good thing that she's decided for me. I probably wasn't ever going to answer.

I put my phone down on Moira's dresser before opening up her top drawer.

"What are you doing?"

I turn around at the sound of my daughter's voice. I'm reminded that I owe her an apology.

"I'm looking for your sister's journal," I tell her softly.

"Why?" she asks with wrinkled eyebrows.

I get the feeling she's trying to be difficult; but I push it aside. If she's acting out, it's because I accused her of not helping with her sister when she really was.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "Oliver called me. He let me know you were calling him for help earlier."

When I finish my apology, she doesn't say anything; nor does she look at me. She works her mouth as if she wants to say something; but then decides not to say anything at all before shrugging her shoulders.

Moira just did that. I was just angry at her for doing that; not saying what she wanted to say and keeping it to herself. The thought reminds me of why I'm here.

I turn to continue with my search. I finish her top drawer a few seconds later. Nothing in there but socks and underthings.

"If you read her journals, she'll be mad at you when she comes home," Casey says from behind me.

I shut the drawer and turn around to face her slowly. _When_ she comes home; not _if _she comes home. I'd like to think Casey's an optimist; but I'm pretty sure she just doesn't understand what's going on. I'm pretty sure she thinks this is the same as yesterday; that Moira ran away and she's coming home when she feels like it. That would explain why she doesn't seem to be as concerned as the rest of us.

"Casey, where do you think Lizzy is?"

Casey shrugs her shoulders.

"What do you think is going on?" I try again.

She doesn't answer, she seems…_wary _of me; like if she gives me the wrong answer I'll blow up at her or something. I can't blame her. Since she got in the house, I've done nothing but yell at her.

"Go on; tell me. Do you think Lizzy ran away like yesterday and that I'm wasting time trying to find her?"

She shrugs her shoulders as a response.

"You think she's coming home on her own, when she feels like it, again; don't you?" I ask softly.

She shrugs again before sitting down on her bed. It makes me wince a little because I know that's not the case. I know Moira's in trouble and I want Casey off the bed, out of the house, looking for her sister.

"Casey, today's not the same as yesterday. Lizzy's in trouble. She _needs_ you. Will you please go out and look for her," I beg.

Casey sighs.

"Please," I beg once more.

She shakes her head at me. "I can't."

"Why?" I ask with more bite to my tone than I intended on using.

"Dad told me to come home, stay here, and watch you," is her answer.

I blink at her; like I don't understand what she just said. Clark told her to come home and watch me? Watch me do what? Go insane; because if he told her to come home and make sure no resurrected Kryptonians come after me; I'll absolutely kill him. He should know I wouldn't be okay with him putting her in danger that way. She's thirteen.

"Watch me do what?" I decide to ask out loud.

"Just to make sure you're safe," she shrugs.

"Safe from what?"

She shrugs her shoulders, meaning she's being evasive on purpose. I must be running on pure paranoia because right now I'm getting the feeling that Clark told her not to tell me.

"Dad's not coming home," she tells me.

Again, I blink at her, absolutely sure I didn't hear her right. Why would she say something like that?

"Not until he finds her," she finishes quickly.

I nod my head quietly before speaking again.

"When did he tell you that?" I ask her.

I don't know why I asked. I know the answer already; and I don't want to hear it verbally confirmed. If Clark _just _talked to Casey, why didn't he call me? Why didn't he answer when I called him?

I think Casey knows why I'm asking because she doesn't answer me. She just shrugs at me. It's her favorite answer when I ask her a question. I hate it.

I take a deep breath, trying not to let her get the best of me. Then I turn deliberately and start going through Moira's things again. A lot of her stuff has been tossed around already; I suspect Jonathan's gone through most of it already. It explains what he was doing in here nearly three thirty this morning.

I hear Casey sigh behind me. It reminds me that Casey doesn't think I should look for or read Moira's Journals.

Wait, journals. Casey said "journals;" not journal. Does that mean there is indeed more than one? Does she know where they are?

I turn around so quickly, Casey jumps.

"What?" she scowls uneasily.

"You know where Moira's journals are, don't you?" I accuse.

She doesn't answer me.

"Give them to me," I command, taking her nonresponsive answer for a "yes."

"I didn't say I know where they are," she responds.

It's still not a definite 'I don't know where they are,' so I walk toward her; and just as I do, my son, Jonathan, appears in front of me.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he apologizes before I can even get used to his presence. Usually I'm used to all the sudden appearances and disappearances; but today I'm a little rattled.

"I caught up to her and we had a fight; but then we crashed through and broke Reeves Dam. I had to stop the water. Moira ran away," he finishes calmly before telling me tht he's going back out to look for her and beginning to walk away.

I grab onto his arm, catching his attention.

"She ran. After the dam broke?" I ask him disbelievingly. She really didn't stay behind to help? What was she thinking?

"Don't worry mom, no one got hurt. I fixed it," he tells me before turning a little to try and leave again; but I hold on tighter. There's one more thing I need to know.

"You can fly," I accuse. No, there's nothing wrong with flying. It's a very good thing in my book; but keeping it a secret. That's not so good.

"Not always, I learned today," he says.

I raise my eyebrows, wanting a more elaborate explanation than that. I'm tired of evasiveness and half-truths.

"Lizzy flew away; and I didn't want to lose her, so I followed her," he explains with an underlying note of impatience. I don't take offense. He just wants to get back out there and find his sister.

I let him go; and as soon as I do, he disappears.

"Where are Lizzy's journals," I ask while staring out into the hallway still. I can feel them coming. Tears. My daughter was so desperate to get away, so desperate to help the woman she knows as Lana that she didn't stop to help her brother save a town full of people? I truly don't know who she is; and if I can find her journals, I have a feeling that I'll learn.

Casey doesn't answer me at first; but when she does, it's not the answer I want.

"Mom, you really shouldn't. She won't like it," is what she says.

I turn around to face her, there are tears running down my face by now; but that's it. I'm not sobbing, and hollering, and carrying on; just crying silent tears.

Upon seeing my face, Casey winces and shifts uneasily. She hates it when people cry; she's very much like Lois in that way.

"Casey, please," I beg.

"She told me she doesn't want anybody to see them; especially not you." She looks away from me as she answers; probably so she won't have to see the hurt on my face.

I fix that. I walk up to her, closing the distance between us, and I stare at her until she's so uncomfortable she feels she has to look up at me.

"Have you read them?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "No, but I always hide them for her when she's finished."

I put my hands on her shoulders.

"Un-hide them," I command softly.

She looks at me for just a few more seconds as she debates with herself; then she shrugs my hands off her shoulder. I almost ask her once again for the journals; but then she gets down on the floor and crawls under her bed.

When she emerges she's got nearly a dozen notebooks in her hands.

"Here," she says testily while shoving them into my arms.

I blink a few times before putting them down on her bed. She has just enough time to give me a curious look before I wrap her up in my arms. She doesn't hug me back; just keeps her arms down to her side. She's probably mad at me for making her betray her sister; but as down as I am right now, I could care less. Maybe she doesn't hate her sister as much as I thought she did. Not if she hides her sister's stuff under her bed. Come to think of it; Jonathan said he found Jeremiah's shirt under Casey's bed. He accused her of hiding it there on purpose, trying to frame her sister in a sense; but what if Casey put the shirt under her bed herself.

Why would she do that? And why did Moira lie and say she did it when she didn't?

I pull back and look at her; she's not looking back at me.

"Casey?"

"I don't know anything, I just hide them for her," she says. She still won't look at me. She's lying to me. I've had enough lies for today.

"Casey," I start again; but she bends down and picks up one of Moira's journals.

"I think this one is the oldest," she informs me, and I take that to mean it's the one I should start with.

I take it from her before gathering the rest in my arms. I nearly head toward my room but I know I'm forgetting something.

I give my daughter my full attention; she still won't look at me, and she's climbed back into bed. She's already texting someone. Maybe she's calling more people for help; maybe she's just texting one of her friends; but I don't ask her.

I lean over, kiss her forehead, thank her, and tell her that I love her.

She doesn't answer me; but I know she's affected. She stopped texting for a little bit. It's not much; it's hardly anything at all; but she's mad at me. I didn't expect _that _much.

"I love you too, Mom."

I pause at the doorway, looking back at her quickly. She's so engrossed in her phone that I have to wonder if I imagined hearing her say that.

I shake my head and leave. I heard her.

Once inside my room, I sit down quickly, eagerly wanting to hurry and get a start on Moira's journal. I open up the one Casey gave me to read first.

The date on the top right corner kind of throws me. 2016. My daughter was nine years old when she wrote this entry.

My eyes drift down a little lower and I begin to read:

_Dear Journal,_

_I have a lot of secrets. We all do. Me and my brothers and sister. Not Noley. She can't even do anything special yet. We can't tell anybody. Just our family._

_But I have another one. I can't tell nobody about it. Johnny doesn't even know and he always knows EVERYTHING. I can only tell you.._

I stop there and run my fingertips over my daughter's words.

"Oh Moira, you could've told me your secret," I whisper to myself.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **I know I'm uber late; but I hope you enjoyed it. I'd just like to give you a warning. The next few chapters are going to be a little different. They won't be written from Moira or Chloe's points of views. I figured I'd give everyone else a turn. Next up is Clark; after him is Noley. I hope you don't mind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Shonnia22: **Thanks! You're right, I do put a bit of drama in the Kent household; and I usually put Chloe through hell as well; but that's only because she can take it;)Lol, Casey is a stubborn character, you'll get to get inside of her head soon enough. She goes after Noley.

**The fallen sky: **Lol. I don't know about it being a good explanation as to why Casey's such a jackass; like I said, it's pretty simple. In fact, I'm drawing on an experience I had with my own younger sister. I think I told you before that she was a bit like Casey; but not so much. Probably because I'm not as timid or mild as Moira. But just recently I found out why she was always a little resentful toward me and my sister. She wrote it in a letter to our mother and told her that it was okay if I read it. When I read the reason, I was beyond shocked. I couldn't believe _that_ was the reason she was such a donkey all those years. It was kind of stupid to me. But whatever; it obviously was a big deal to her.

Ah, Chloe's motherly pride. You know, I think you're right about me using my relationship with my mother to draw from for the relationships between Chloe and her children. My mother was extremely possessive with us. Thinking back on it, it probably wasn't so healthy; but I don't know any other way to write mothers as mine is the only mother I have. But in this instance, the idea of someone else cutting her daughter's hair was sort of like this problem my mom had with us, me and my siblings, when we were younger. Children like to have their way; so when they want something, and one parent's answer is no, they go to the other parent. Sometimes the other parent says yes; other times, the other parent tells the child to ask the other parent. In a way, I think Chloe's thoughts follow along the lines of an instance where she told her child "no"; and her daughter asked her other parent; and the other parent, who Chloe has never met by the way, said yes; making Chloe out to be the "bad parent." I don't know how else to explain it.

And yes, Noley's still went to school. She's going to have a very eventful day! I can't say why of course but I hope you like it. As for Moira's secret, her precognitive power, it only worked once. I mentioned it in passing in one of the previous chapters. It was a one-line sentence; nothing too elaborate because Moira's thoughts were bouncing around because she was in too much of a panic. But Moira mentioned only seeing the future once, and that it probably hadn't happened again because the last time resulted in a traumatic experience for her and as a coping mechanism her brain must've kept her from doing it again. Sort of like how Clark could only fly when he was receptive to the idea, or unconscious, or not himself. The power lays dormant within himself, but it's still there, ready to be used when he accepts himself and his destiny. At least, that's why I thought he couldn't fly; his supposed fear of heights despite the fact that a fall wouldn't have hurt him.

Why did Zod choose Moira? _Choose_ is a good word for it; and I'll get into that later; let's just hope no one tries to hang me for shaking up the Superman story as we all know it. This particular story _is_ AU after all;)

**Jeremy Shane, Anonymous: **Thanks! Hope you're not disappointed;)

**Dizzy78: **Lol, it would take a lot to break Chloe down completely. And I'm glad you're receptive to the idea of a chapter from Clark and the rest of the Kents.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

"Make sure you listen to little Kal-el."

It's what he, my daughter's boyfriend, just said to my youngest daughter before getting into a small silver Porsche. He didn't say it loud enough for anyone to hear. He stooped down in front of Noley and whispered it to her; which meant it was still loud enough for me to hear. He was still loud enough for _everyone _to hear; everyone except for my wife that is.

I have a feeling he knew I'd be listening; and the thought makes me want to march up to his expensive car and rip the door off its hinges. He wanted me to hear just how much respect he doesn't have for me when he called me _little_; and he wanted me to hear him call me by my birth name. He knows who I am. I know this already.

I wasn't sure of it at first. At first, I was only certain he'd guessed about the 'green rocks' as most people refer to kryptonite. My son gave me the heads up via text message; a simple message comprised of ten words.

'Guy in our kitchen knows how to make Lizzy sick.'

Instantly, I knew he meant kryptonite. It's the only thing that can make my daughter "sick." And since there was a guy in my kitchen who knew about the way kryptonite affects my daughter, then I needed to get home immediately.

He could've been dangerous.

It was an emergency.

"You should savor that smile Moira. I don't think you'll be doing it again anytime soon."

My wife; and she sounds angry. Good. I was afraid she wouldn't be angry _enough_ for this. She's never angry enough with Moira for anything. I understand why; and it's not like Moira's a problem child and needs a lot of discipline. At least I didn't think she was this morning before her boyfriend showed up.

I will admit that I thought so last night when she ran away and got away with it. I was so angry about that; about how she gets away with so much so easily. Even small things, just because they're small, she could get away with them by simply apologizing and promising her mother that she won't do it again. It's always been this way, though it shouldn't have been.

I should have said something to Chloe about it before last night; but I couldn't ever find the right moment or words to use. I don't even think _last night _was the best time to mention it now that I think back on it. I was too angry and frustrated at the time. I yelled at her. I told her that she can't play favorites; and that if any of the other kids ran away the way Moira did, she wouldn't have hesitated to discipline them. Then I mentioned Moira's hair being cut. It's not a sin to get a haircut, not in the least; but we _jus_t told her that same morning that the answer was no. It was very bold of her to go against that, as well as disrespectful to our wishes. I had more to say, but I couldn't get another word out. The look on my wife's face stopped me. She was hurt. More than hurt actually, there was something else; but I couldn't quite understand what I was seeing for a few seconds.

Then it hit me. Guilt. I nearly smiled. I thought I'd gotten through to her. I thought she understood where I was coming from. I thought she finally realized what she'd been doing all these years; but I was wrong.

"She remembers," Chloe whispered.

It took me a while to get to the "who remembers what" question. Something else was wrong with my wife, and I realized I'd come to the wrong conclusion when she told me that my daughter remembers Chloe not wanting anything to do with her the day she was born.

"I called her a thing," Chloe whispered brokenly.

I had nothing to say, so I left. I told her I'd be back; that there was an emergency I had to take care of; and I left.

I lied to her.

I should've comforted her. I should have told her that everything's alright. I should've told her that it wasn't her fault, lots of mothers say things they don't mean when they're giving birth naturally; but I didn't say anything.

I'd honestly forgotten about the way Chloe acted toward Moira the day my oldest children were born. It was hard _not _to forget considering the way she treats Moira now.

So how the hell did Moira remember? I realize that she _is_ my daughter after all; and because of that I expect her to be able to do some pretty amazing things; but _I_ don't even remember that far back in my past. I don't remember my birth parents, or Krypton, or things, buildings, homes, falling down around me as my parents placed me in a ship destined for earth. Those are all tragic images that could be buried into a young infant's subconscious until something triggers the memory.

And I've had plenty of triggers. I've watched buildings being destroyed. I've seen meteor showers, tsunamis, earth quakes, tornadoes, and hurricanes destroy homes; towns; _people_. I've seen bombs, and wars, and terrorists use planes as weapons. I've seen it all, yet nothing helped me to remember the very first taste of a calamity I'd ever experienced.

So how could Moira remember something Chloe said about her the day she was born? The question bothered me and I came up with only one answer; one that I doubt is the answer; one that doesn't even make sense. And it's that Moira's a girl; and as a girl she's more sensitive. It could be that hearing her mother reject her was even more painful to her than all the destruction I've witnessed. Maybe. Like I said, it's not a very good explanation. It's not even a theory I would ever mention out loud for the cows to hear, but it was all I could come up with at the time so I shook it off and roamed around aimlessly. I needed to run into someone doing wrong pretty soon; that way I would feel better about lying to my wife. I guess I figured it would be less of a lie if I could _actually_ find that emergency I told her I had to take care of.

No such luck. Not immediately as least. I wasn't surprised. On any other night, I would have to leave my family to take care of someone else's family. It's only fitting that the night I needed an excuse to get out of the house America chooses to sleep peacefully.

I kept going though. There was no doubt I'd find _something_. I had to; because I couldn't go home. I couldn't face my wife. Not after the things I said to her. I hurt her when I pointed out the fact that she seems to favor Moira. I implied she doesn't love her other children as much. I should have known better than to say that. Chloe loves them all. She really does; and she's a great mother. I don't think she even _realizes_ how much closer she seems to hold Moira, or how much more leeway she gives her than our other children. It's not her fault. It's the nightmares. And _those _are all my fault. She has those because of me; because I hurt her. I hurt my wife. If it weren't for me, and the disappearing act I pulled on her sixteen years ago, I know she wouldn't have ever had that nightmare about Moira disappearing in the first place.

I read her journals. Once. I couldn't read them more times than that. I could barely get through them the first time around. She suffered when she lost me. She was afraid, she was depressed, she was lonely, and she was angry all the time; but she was still hopeful that I'd return to her. And I did. Four months later. I came back just in time for Chloe and our friend, Lana, to give birth to my children.

It was three days later that the first nightmare occurred; and it had been a frequent occurrence since. I knew what was happening. Chloe was afraid I'd leave again. She admitted it to me once, and that was it. She never said anything about it again. But that doesn't mean she wasn't thinking about it constantly.

The nightmare was nothing more than her subconscious fears jumbling all together and manifesting into a tragic experience for her; losing her child. I held her every time, and I brought our daughter in for her, just so that she could see that her baby was fine. It went on like that for years; seven, almost eight, years in fact. I wasn't surprised by that either. Moira was seven years old in every nightmare; every single one. I believe I'm the reason for that too. I believe it was a subconscious symbolism on Chloe's part. Seven years is how long my wife and I had known each other before_ I _disappeared.

My theory proved correct when Chloe stopped having the nightmare just a few weeks before Moira turned eight.

At least I thought it had been proven correct until she had the nightmare the night before last. It was a shock for me; but what was more shocking for me was how easy it was to get back into the "nightmare rhythm." I held my wife, I kissed her, I comforted her, and I told her it was just a dream. I told her our daughter was fine; but she still asked for her. I knew she would. She always does; and I was prepared to have to go get her; but I hesitated. Moira's not seven years old anymore; and I can see that she's struggling to grow up a little. I can see it every time she tries to go out somewhere, whether it's just to take a walk or go to the library, and Chloe sends one of her siblings with her. Moira never says anything to her mother; but I see her shoulders slump slightly. She's fifteen, gonna be sixteen in a few weeks. She doesn't want to be protected as if she's a child anymore. She wants to be allowed to grow up.

Could that be the reason she went out and got a boyfriend; because that's a grown up rebellious thing to do to get back at her overprotective parents? It would explain why she picked _him_. She just latched on to the first boy she saw; and he would be it because she spends so much of her time with him, and she's known him so long.

I sigh heavily. For eight years my daughter's known that boy in the small silver Porsche.

I keep my eyes on the car as it gets further and further away.

Nothing particularly _bad _happened; nothing life threatening at least, but I _still_ feel as if this is an emergency and I subconsciously memorize his license plate number. Without making the conscious decision to, I've decided to go after him as soon as I'm finished here. My wife told me to let him go; but I can't. I won't. I need to talk to the boy who isn't afraid of me without her holding me back.

The boy who isn't afraid of me. It sounds as if I think too highly of myself; that I believe everyone should fear me. But I don't. I just didn't, _don't_, like the way he looked at me. Even if I wasn't superman, I'm still Moira's father. He should've shown a little more respect, or humility toward the man whose daughter he's been dating, and that better be all they've been doing,for the past year. He should not have been so _comfortable. Especially_ not while knowing that I could easily put him through the ceiling because Moira obviously told him that I am indeed Superman.

That made me nervous. It _still_ makes me nervous. Did the boy believe I wouldn't hurt him? Is that why he didn't so much as flinch at the sight of me? Was he testing me; seeing if he could rile Superman up? Or did he know that he _couldn't _rile me up. Maybe he believed I wouldn't dare expose myself to him, therefore allowing him to get away with murder. It makes sense in a way. He _knew_ I wouldn't do anything to him in front of my family; in front of my children. Especially not in front of my eight year old daughter; the one who seems to have taken to him in her own little way.

_Make sure you listen to little Kal-el._

Or was he challenging me? He wanted to make sure that I know without a doubt that he knows who I am. He displayed no sign of fear, because he knew I would never kill him just to keep my secret. Kal-el doesn't kill; he puts people in cells, bad people only; and the boy knew it. Unless Heath committed an actual crime, I had to let him go. I couldn't hurt him. I _wouldn't _hurt him just because he knew my secret.

I ball my fists together. What was Moira thinking when she told him? There's a good chance she's put our family in danger. _Her family_; her mother, her brothers, her sisters. She chose t_hat boy_ over them?

Then I hear them. Screams. More than a dozen people; more than fifty people. _Too_ many people screaming screams so powerful and panicked stricken, I can literally feel them vibrating in my chest. And now there are sirens; police sirens, ambulance sirens, fire engine sirens. They're headed toward the screams. The screams that are all coming from the same direction.

An Emergency. One far more important than my own.

I swear. In front of my wife; and in front of my oldest daughter. I swear.

They blink at me; their jaws drop; they freeze.

It's not a vulgar word by any means. Just a simple "damn it;" but the stunned expressions on their faces are testament to just how often I've sworn around them at all.

It lets them know something's wrong. Something big. Something other than the current problem at hand; which has everything to do with my fifteen year old daughter leading a double, no, _triple_ life. _I _lead a double life. Outsiders know me as either Clark Kent or Superman. But to my family, I'm both one and the same. It is a secret my family keeps from others, both for their protection and ours. We don't keep secrets from each other. At least not ones of this magnitude; and especially not ones my daughter is too young to keep in the first place.

And it's in the midst of discovering all this, discovering Moira has secrets and has trusted outsiders with _our_ secrets, that an even bigger crisis arises. I have to leave. _Have_ to. During a crucial moment in my household, I have to leave because others need me.

I _have_ to go; but I don't want to. It's never happened to me before. I've never _not _wanted to run to the aid of those in need of me. I am Kal-el; the last son of krypton; sent here to protect the inhabitants of this earth; but my daughter…I just feel like something's wrong. Like I'm missing something important. I have to be, because nothing's adding up; not with Heath, not with Moira, not with Heath _and _Moira, together, as a couple, who've known each other for literally half their lives.

I give my head a mental but decisive shake before bending forward a little to kiss my wife goodbye. To my daughter, I give a firm frown and tell her to stay put before I run off. I don't miss the way she inhales a lung full of relief. It makes me want to turn back around, tell her she's not off the hook, drag her with me so that I can keep a good eye on her just in case she's up to something; but I don't. I tell myself that I'm blowing things way out of proportion; that I'm just a little on edge because I don't like my daughter's boyfriend. That I'm just a little on edge because my daughter _has _a boyfriend and he just so happens to be an arrogant, self-centered, disrespectful, selfish little bastard with an ego the size Manhattan. God, if I wasn't Superman I would've run over to him and just-

Concentrate. I need to concentrate on the screams; on the people who need me. Not him; not my daughter; and not that fact that she loves the prick.

Love.

She doesn't know the meaning of the word. Not if she loves him. She feels strongly for him; that much I have no choice but to believe. She wouldn't have told him she loves him in front of me and my wife if she didn't think she did. Eight years is a long time to know somebody and not care for them to a certain degree. But I refuse to believe my daughter could _love_ someone like that.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't realize something is wrong immediately. I'm in the hospital; Metropolis General in fact. I've rushed passed the lobby and waiting rooms. I paid them no mind. They're practically empty now; and they're not where the screams are coming from. I've rushed into the darkest hallway. I'm on my way to the fire.

There's a fire. Of course there's something wrong with that picture. Fires don't belong in hospitals; but it takes me a while to realize there's something wrong with _me_.

I'm sweating. It's the heat. I can feel it; and it's so intense it makes me gasp. I instantly regret having such an involuntary reaction to the heat because now I can't breathe. I'm choking, coughing; desperately in search of clean air. I've inhaled a good amount of smoke and it's affecting me.

Blue kryptonite.

It's somewhere around here. It has to be. I'm human.

I don't search for it; for the blue kryptonite. I don't have the time; and I don't have the vision. Not just x-ray vision; but sight in general. I'm not blinded; but I may as well be. The smoke is heavy and nearly impossible to see through; but I keep going.

I keep going even though my eyes burn so bad that my body involuntarily produces tears to assuage them. It doesn't help. In fact, I think it makes it worse. On top of the burning, and the trouble I'm having trying to see through the smoke, my sight has now been blurred; but I keep going.

I can hear screams, and I try to ignore the ones coming from outside the building. They're who I heard originally; loved ones of the sick, hurt, and/or dying. They're the ones who got my attention; and they're the reason I'm here; but now I wish would quiet down. It's not their fault; but I'm human. I can't hear the screams I need to hear right now with them making so much noise out there; but I keep going.

I keep going until I hear a few cries for help further down the hall. They're faint, and I can't tell where they're coming from. I can barely hear anything but what sounds like the building falling down all around me as glass, metal, and the very walls shatter, bend, and crumble at the fire's request; But I can hear myself loudest of all. Every breath I try to take, but can't. Every cough, every dry heave, every wheeze, every gasp, every heart beat; I hear it and I make a decision.

I cover my mouth with one hand and I raise the bottom of my cape above my head with the other. And then I turn back around and head back in the direction I came. I can't help anyone like this.

I stumble until I make it into the waiting room; and already I can feel myself getting stronger.

"Dad!"

I freeze. I'd recognize that voice anywhere; but what is it doing here? Why isn't it at school?

"Dad! Where are you?"

"Casey!" I yell back.

She doesn't answer; but I hear her cough.

Blue kryptonite.

She's human. She can't hear me.

I focus my sight on the direction I heard her voice come from and I immediately see her running down the same hall I'd just come out of. I must've run right past her.

I run back in after her. I'm prepared for the heat and the smoke this time, so it's not as bad as before. Plus, my daughter's in there. I don't feel a thing; just the need to get her to safety.

She's not too far in; but considering she's not supposed to be there in the first place, she's far enough.

"Daddy, help!"

It's not very loud. I'm back to not being able to hear as well as I'm normally able to; but I do hear her.

"Casey!" I shout back.

She doesn't answer me and I don't see her. I should have run into her by now. Why haven't I run into her by now? And why isn't she answering me?

I keep going; and I keep yelling my daughter's name. I keep looking for her, but it's taking more time than I feel I have to find her. Did I pass her already?

"Dad?"

It was a barely audible sound but I heard it; I know I heard my daughter's voice. She's somewhere close by.

Coughing. I can hear coughing. It sounds as if it's coming from my left.

I struggle to make my way toward the sound; and when I finally do, I find my child; as well as someone else's child huddled together on the floor; waiting for me.

I stoop down in front of them, and I offer my hand to my daughter; but she doesn't take it.

"Here," Casey coughs out as she pushes the child into my arms. It's a girl. I can tell by her shoes. I can't see her face. She's wearing my daughter's jacket over her head.

"She's too heavy for me," my daughter explains when I hesitate.

I frown at her. I don't think she understands that my hesitation was because I was wondering why she hadn't gotten up yet.

"Let's go," I rush her. My words come out harsh; but I don't mean them that way. It's just really hard to breathe.

She sighs, but it comes out as a cough. A really bad one.

I quickly wrap an arm around her and pull her to her feet.

She lets out a loud yelp and I drop her.

I nearly drop the child I'm holding in my other arm as well.

"Casey?"

"I think it's a sprained ankle," she cuts me off before coughing a little more. "I'm not sure. I've never had one before; but I can't walk on it."

"Try," I urge her while reaching my hand out to her again.

There's a cough on my shoulder, and I'm reminded of the other child. We have to go. Now.

I pull Casey up again; and I ignore her when she cries out. It hurts now, but as soon as we're away from the kryptonite she won't feel a thing. She'll be completely healed. She just has to go on for a few minutes. She can make it.

But she doesn't. She takes a few steps, and she tries to use just one leg; but it just doesn't work. She pulls out of my arms and refuses to take another step.

I get a little angry with her. We can't stop. We don't have the time.

"Casey," I cough. "We're almost there."

She doesn't answer me at first. Not until we hear the sound of something shift and crash behind us. It could have easily been an empty hospital; but I begin to urge my daughter on as if the ceiling is falling down on us.

She still doesn't want to move; she just keeps telling me that it hurts really bad.

I pick her up. We don't have the time to argue about this. I move as fast as I can; but the combined weight of both my daughter and the other child is almost too much in my current condition.

I nearly fall a few times; and then there is a time when I do. I fall.

The child doesn't seem to notice. I'm beginning to think she's unconscious; but Casey notices. She screams. I've fallen on her leg. The one that hurts.

I apologize to her before getting back up straight away and lifting the child up with me. I lean over Casey, and I wrap my arm around her but she pushes my arm away.

"Casey!" I admonish as harshly as I can; but my voice barely registers as a wheezing whisper.

She coughs into her hands several times before pointing at me, then to the child, then down the hallway.

She's suffering from smoke inhalation; and she needs oxygen in her brain right this second. She's gone crazy if she thinks I'm going to leave her here.

"Come back after," she coughs out.

I ignore her; and I reach out to her; but she still refuses to come with me. She's wasting time.

"Faster," she says while shooing me away.

She's telling me it would be faster to get out of here if I carry the girls out one by one. I can honestly say that I don't see the logic behind that. It would be faster if Casey could just get up and endure a few minutes' worth of pain. Just a few minutes.

I'm about to pull her up with me when I hear her say she's sorry. And I've still got a hold on her arm when she tells me that she's just not as strong as me.

It's not only her words that stop me; but the tone of her voice. She seems genuinely disappointed in herself for not being able to handle what I'm asking of her.

Maybe I'm asking too much.

I kiss her forehead; and I tell her to stay put; that I'm coming right back for her. She nods her head in understanding and I give the jacket she put over the other child's head back to her. I watch her put it over her head and I use my cape for the child I'm taking care of.

I don't find my way out as quickly as I thought I would. It was a much longer walk than I remember it being.

I leave the hospital. I have to because there's no one in here right now and I can't just leave the child in the waiting room just because the air is cleaner. So, I walk outside.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" I hear a man shout. It takes me a few moments to realize he's referring to the child in my arms.

The man thanks me a dozen times before, while, and after snatching the child out of my arms and holding her against himself. He kisses her just as many times as he thanked me.

It's not until I hear the girl call him dad, and I see a few paramedics take over and check her over that I leave. I know there are people out here; doctors, police; but I had to make sure that they didn't just let him walk off with her before she got checked out, or even _he _got checked out. There was no guarantee that the man actually was her father. One can never be too careful.

I slip back inside, and without hesitation I go into that hallway again for the third time. My daughter's in there. She insisted I go on without her; that I take the child to safety first.

Elizabeth. Elizabeth was the child's name.

As I walk on, I think about my own Elizabeth. My Lizzy.

I left the house angry with her; I left without kissing her goodbye. I didn't do it on purpose, or as a kind of punishment. I just didn't do it. I just told her to stay put. And then I left.

I feel guilty about it. I'm not supposed to leave angry with any members of my family. It's sort of one of the house rules because I never know what's going to happen to me when I go out. I could leave and never come back. That's the price I have to pay for leading the life of a superhero.

I'll apologize to Moira for that when I get home; and then we'll have a nice long talk about her boyfriend and to where her loyalties should lie.

With that decision made; I put all other thoughts away and focus on my other daughter. Casey.

I call her name. She answers back. She's still pretty far; but at least she can hear me this time. I call her again, she answers immediately, and I continue on toward the sound of her voice. It's a life or death version of "Marco Polo."

I finally make it to her and I let out a breath of relief.

She's on the floor, exactly where I left her. And the jacket is still over her head, offering her a little protection from the smoke.

"Casey."

At the sound of my voice she looks up, and at the sight of me she begins to crawl toward me on her hands and knees.

Instantly I'm reminded of the time before she could walk; the time when she was just an infant and had to crawl in order to get around. The time when she was my baby; and the image makes me want to protect her even more.

I lift my daughter into my arms. She's heavier than what I'm used to; but right now she could weigh a ton and I'd still be able to lift her.

"I've got you baby," I whisper to her.

I doubt she hears me. Her face is buried completely in my neck.

I stumble my way back out of the dark hallway. And as soon as we're out she gets down. Her leg is just fine now.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her once I'm sure she's fine.

The look she gives me, it's almost as if she'd forgotten what she came to tell me. Like she'd forgotten to tell me something really important.

"Dad, Lizzy ran away again and Mom's freaking out."

I blink at her.

What does she mean Moira's gone again?

"I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you right away. I was just thinking about the girl, and then I hurt my ankle, and I just forgot to tell you."

I let her talk and apologize; but I'm not listening. Moira's gone again. She wouldn't run away again would she? Not after yesterday.

"Did she say anything before she left? Did she mention where she might be headed?" I interrupt

"I was still outside"-

"Weren't you listening still?" I interrupt that sentence too.

Casey nods her head, ashamed of having been caught eaves dropping; but I could care less right now. I need whatever information she can give me.

"She said that her friend was in trouble."

"Who, Maddie?"

Casey shakes her head. "No, some girl named Lana; but I don't know who that is."

She doesn't have to know who Lana is. _I _know who Lana is. My wife must be a wreck; it sounds as if her nightmare has come to past; but I can't go to her now. I have to stay here.

"Go home, now" I tell Casey.

"What? But Dad, Lizzy's"-

"Go home and watch your mother. Make sure she's safe."

Her eyes go wide. She knows something's wrong now. I can only imagine what I most look like to her. Usually I'm calm and cool. Right now, I'm frantic and the most worried I've been in many years.

"Make sure she's safe," I repeat firmly.

Casey nods her head in agreement.

"Good girl," I tell her while pulling her into a fierce hug. I kiss her on the forehead; and I tell her that I love her.

"Dad?"

She looks scared, and confused. And I have a slight dilemma. Should I tell her everything is going to be alright? Or should I prepare her for the worst?

"Try to get cleaned up before your mother sees you," I tell her while pointing at her soiled clothing. "I don't want her to worry."

"Maybe she won't even notice," Casey says lightly.

I give her a look that says now is not the time and she apologizes.

"Are you coming home after you finish this?" She asks me while raising her arms, gesturing toward this…mess.

I shake my head and tell her I'll come home when I find her sister.

"Okay," she says softly before disappearing.

I walk outside and I can hear little snippets of what the news reporters have to say. Some are reporting that all calls made to the hospital are being forwarded to landlines elsewhere so that people are still able to call the hospital and ask about their family members.

A few others report that a few sections and wings of the hospital have been isolated. That's good to hear. It means there are still some safe parts left in the hospital. I also hear someone say something about

I can also hear the commotion around myself; the gasps, the flashing lights, the people wondering what I'm doing out here and not in there.

I ignore them. I've learned that not everybody agrees with me and my ways; and I know that not everybody likes me. So I ignore the spectators and the quick to condemn and I concentrate on what I have to do.

I fly above them. I fly to a place above the hospital. A place where I won't be seen by anything other than birds and planes; and I call Oliver Queen.

He picks up immediately, and I tell him about the kryptonite in the hospital. No greetings or pleasantries. Manners aren't my number one priority.

He hesitates for just a second before telling me he's on it. He's realized what this means. The hospital patients were nothing but a means to an end. Someone's out to get_ me_.

Someone who knows my weakness.

I focus my sight and look through the roof and down into the hospital. This had been my plan all along. I was going to look for patients from up here and then either send one of the members to their aid or try my best to get to him or her. It would be easier to get to them after knowing exactly where they were. At least that's how I would have to operate until the kryptonite was taken care of.

But right now I don't focus to find random strangers. I'm looking for somebody specific.

I don't see him. He's gone; but I _do _hear about him from the news reports below.

Lex Luthor has risen; he's singlehandedly caused the injury of nearly a dozen people and the death of one; and he's escaped.

My wife had been right all along.

I want to leave. I want to search for Lex and my daughter. It doesn't matter in what order because I have a feeling that if I find one I'll find the other; but I can't go.

I can see a man staggering around down there. He's so lost and confused that he's literally going around in circles. I drop out of the sky; and I run back into the hospital. I know exactly where to go.

I get him to safety and then I go back to the roof. I stare down at the roof, searching for people trapped inside the hospital still.

I do it over and over again; for complete strangers, until The League arrive and can handle everything without me.

~~{(O)(O)(O)}~~

"Jor-el!" I yell.

I usually don't do this. For a long while, I've been calling the voice in my fortress "Father." And I usually don't come here first. This is usually one of my last resorts.

Not today.

"My son," the voice says to me.

I want to cringe. I am not his son. He is not my father. He's just a voice; an artificial intelligence with the thoughts and wills of the man who was my father; my biological father. Because if this truly is my father, I would have to reevaluate the conclusion I've drawn about him being misunderstood by a teenage boy who's destiny was so great he couldn't begin to fathom the bigger picture causing him to unseeingly reject the man who could see it all laid out before him like a map.

"What have you done?" I answer him, cutting straight to the chase. I don't stop there, he'd just ask me what I'm referring to, and I have no time to waste with small talk.

"What have you done with my daughter? Where is Moira?" I shout as if I'm accusing him of coming into my home and taking her personally.

"She is not here, my son," the voice booms from above me, around me, beneath me. I'm hearing it as I've always heard it. Loud and seemingly coming from nowhere.

Not today.

It comes from everywhere. It suffocates me; reminds me that despite my many abilities, there is one who can break me down, make me feel small, take from me. He's done it more than once; punish me for disobeying; take things away from me; and not just small things. Things I feel I need to survive; my powers, my memory, my father, my everything.

My daughter.

He can take away my daughter. He says he hasn't; but I hope he has. If he hasn't, I don't want to imagine where my daughter could be. What she could be going through because of who she's more than likely with.

"Where is she?" I ask him.

No answer.

"Father?" I beg

"I do not know, my son."

I swallow deeply at his words; and hold my tongue because I want to yell at him, tell him that he's lying to me, and that he does know where she is. He has to. He knows everything.

"She is my daughter," I tell him.

"I know who she is," he replies.

"She is your granddaughter," I remind him; just in case he doesn't understand the connection, just in case he doesn't remember the day I brought her to him _because _of that connection.

He'd asked for her. Much like Chloe's often asked for her; with a simple, "Bring her to me."

"Bring who to you?" I'd asked him. I had three hers after all. My wife and my two daughters, Moira and Casey

He asked for his eldest grandchild then; he asked for my Moira. I should've known something was wrong then. Between my wife's constant nightmares about her; and my biological father's interest in solely her; I should've known something was wrong. But I didn't. I chalked it up some kind of Kryptonian ceremony taking place. He'd asked for his oldest grandchild after all. Don't most societies bestow special gifts and/or responsibilities upon the first born?

The visit was brief. For me anyway, I brought my daughter to the fortress without Chloe's knowledge. I stole her; I had to steal my own daughter from school because I was so afraid of what Chloe would do if she knew Jor-el had asked to see Moira. Especially at that age; especially because Moira was seven. All of her nightmares were centered around her seven year old child being taken away from her. It was a very tough year. Chloe wouldn't let Moira out of her sight, my sight, or the other kids' sights. There was just no way she would've let me take her.

She'd kill me if she ever found out. I'm ashamed to admit that to this day, she still doesn't know. I never told her. I could never, _can't_ ever, get up enough courage to tell my wife that after I brought Moira to the fortress to see Jor-el, he told me to leave…without her. Just go home. He wanted time alone with her.

I hesitated. She was just seven after all. What if she couldn't find her way back home? What if I never saw her again? She was not the baby at the time. Casey was the youngest and so had baby status; but I had noticed that Moira was a bit more fragile than the others. Maybe she was that way because Chloe treated her like glass, maybe it was just who she was; whatever the reason was, it made me uncomfortable leaving my little girl alone with Jor-el. She was still a baby to me; _my_ baby.

And she didn't want to stay either. She hid behind me, held on to my leg the whole time I talked to my father. She wouldn't even let go when I tried to turn and face her.

"Daddy, don't make me stay here," she pleaded with me.

I knew what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to tell her to be strong; that everything was going to be fine. I was supposed to reassure her, make her feel comfortable and confident. But how was that supposed to work if _I_ wasn't strong? How was that supposed to work if _I _wasn't comfortable with what was being asked of me?

"Fear me not, child," Jor-El's voice would've boomed over mine had I found words of comfort to speak to my child.

Moira shook a little, a shiver running up her spine. She wasn't cold. She was invulnerable to the cold; but fear, she could feel fear. I was her father. I was supposed to keep her from being afraid. I was supposed to take her home; keep her safe; but I didn't. I told my daughter she'd be fine.

I couldn't chance defying Jor-el. No good ever came of it.

But I've never been able to forget the look on Moira's face when I told her to stay put. It was the look of betrayal and disbelief; a look that let me know she'd never trust me to protect her again.

I tried to make it better. I tried to make light of the situation, I told her it would just take a second, that she'd even have time to go back to school; and that afterward I'd take her to get ice cream. Just me and her.

She didn't bite; and I stopped trying. I kneeled before her, putting myself at her height.

"Can Daddy get a goodbye hug and kiss before I leave?" I asked her.

She shook her head at me; denying me. I can honestly say a thousand pounds of kryptonite dropped onto me from a thousand miles away would have hurt less.

I had to tell myself that she didn't mean it. She was a sweetheart. And on my way home, I replayed the goodbye kiss she'd given me and her mother just before she got onto her school bus that morning. I did it over and over again, reminding myself of what a sweetheart my little girl really was.

And I let myself remember it now.

We were all outside, Me, Chloe, Moira, Johnny, Andrew, even little Casey.

The bus came, and as soon as the driver opened the door, Chloe bent to kiss them, starting with Jonathan. But he turned his head and let out an embarrassed "Mom," before nodding his head at the driver.

I could see a little hurt flicker across her face, but she recovered quickly and she laughed it off with a, "Aw, too old for goodbye kisses?"

Andrew and Casey followed behind Jonathan, and they too refused to get kissed in front of the driver, figuring if Jonathan was too old, then so were they.

Moira was last, and by the time it was her turn to say goodbye, Chloe had already figured it was just a goodbye hug deal for her too, but then Moira surprised her. "I'm not too old for goodbye kisses Mama," she said before leaning up on her tiptoes and puckering her lips the way that only small children do.

Chloe smiled as if she'd won a million dollars before bending down and pressing her lips to our daughter's.

Moira grinned, almost shyly, back at her mother before taking a few steps toward the bus and turning right back around and heading for me. I'd already hugged her goodbye while Chloe was saying goodbye to the others; but she came back for me anyway. She wrapped her arms around my thighs because she wasn't tall enough to wrap them any higher, and she stood on her tippy toes, as well as my brand new work shoes, before puckering her lips up for me as well.

I just fell in love with her for the 28,959th time. I picked her up high, and tossed her a little. She squealed, and she laughed before I could get my goodbye kiss; but the bus driver tried to ruin the moment by honking his horn.

It didn't work. We ignored him; well, Chloe told me the bus driver was waiting, but Moira and I ignored _her _too. That is until Chloe smacked me on my rear and told me that the more time I spent playing with Lizzy, the less time we'd have to play with each other before I had to go to work.

I put Moira down the very second the word "play" left my wife's mouth; and I swatted my daughter's bottom playfully as she made a break for the bus.

I was about to turn around and take my wife inside so that we could play; I'd grabbed her hand and everything, but I heard my daughter call for me. I looked up at the bus; it was already showing its back to me. The driver wasted no time once my daughter boarded; but I could see her. She was at the back window, waving, grinning, and blowing kisses for me and her mother.

I remember turning to Chloe with a huge grin on my face; and I remember the way she turned to me with a grin equally as big on her face while pressing her hand against her chest. Moira always did things to the heart. Melt it, fill it, warm it, break it, shatter it into a million pieces.

"Yes, Kal-el. She is my granddaughter," Jor-el says after a lengthy silence. A silence so loud because I'd filled it with the memory of my daughter. Almost as if I need them because I won't be seeing her again.

I shake my head fiercely. I will see my daughter again. I won't go home without her. I can't. I can't face Chloe without her; because this is my fault. I should've listened to her. All these years of dreaming this would happen to our family. I should've listened to her.

"Then help me find her, Father," I ask with such clarity, no one would be able to tell that my throat has closed; that I'm constantly having to fight down the sounds that threaten to bubble up and spew from within me.

I swallow once again when I don't get an answer. I can feel my temper rise. If he's testing me, I will fail soon. I am mere seconds away from releasing all the anger I feel inside of me and destroying this place with my bare hands.

"I cannot," he answers finally.

_Can_not? Or _will_ not? If the answer is will not; then I've lost any form of reverence I've ever felt for this…being. If the answer's will not, then I truly and unwittingly made a deal with the devil.

"What did you do to her?" I ask almost quietly; but I have no doubt he will hear me.

"I have told you"-

"No," I interrupt, trying not to be frustrated about him misunderstanding me once again when I don't have the time nor patience to repeat myself.

"The day I brought her to you; what did you do to her?"

He doesn't answer. I have a feeling he's not going to answer. I don't know if it's another one of his tests or trials or if he's just being an ass. I just know that I want an answer.

"I brought her here," I tell him. I don't know why. Am I hoping I can goad him into giving me something tangible to work with? Am I thinking out loud? Hoping that if I can remember all the details of that day, something will click into place, something I hadn't thought about before.

"I left her here with you," I ruminate loudly, almost accusingly.

Still no answer.

"And when she came back, I asked her what you wanted with her," I finish. Hoping he'll take it from there because I honestly don't know what happened next. Her answer had been "nothing." She told me he did nothing to her; that just wanted to meet her; that's all. I felt uneasy about that. If that was the case, why didn't Jor

-El ask for all four of my children? Why did he only meet with Moira?

I asked her a few more times, but she insisted that she was fine; that her grandfather wasn't as scary as she thought he was.

Still, I wasn't satisfied by the answer, so I tried a different approach. I asked her what had happened. What was said. What tone was used when what was said was said. I asked her a million little question designed to get me a full picture of what had taken place between her and Jor-el in the fortress; and still, all I could gather was that Jor-el just wanted to see her for himself, and that there was a bright light.

"Clark!"

I hesitate before leaving the fortress and going to my wife. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't go home until I found my daughter; but the way my wife just yelled my name…there's trouble. More trouble than my daughter being missing; more trouble than Lex becoming Zod, _again_, _and_ going missing as well.

The way she yells my name lets me know that I should've kissed my daughter goodbye.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **I realize Clark's emotions and feelings toward his daughter are kind of everywhere but I figured most parents who are in these kinds of situations have erratic thoughts. And maybe even a few flash backs;)


	11. Chapter 11

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Emma217: **No prob.

**The fallen sky: **Thank you so much! I was kinda worried about that chapter. I mean, Superman is not supposed to have a big ego; but when I was thinking of the scene I figured he would've expected _some _form of respect from Heath. And the fact that Heath was a complete and arrogant bastard must've grated on the man of steel's nerves something fierce!

I always figured Clark would be a good father. He did so good with Maddie, Ryan, Evan, even Bart to a certain extent. It was kind of hard to see it in this story because from Chloe and Moira's perspective Clark just kind of seemed angry. I'm glad I got to do a chapter from his view so that everyone could see that he's not just angry. He's confused as well; and he loves his family so much. You also got to see that yes, he loves Casey; and the relationship between him and her is strong; but despite how Moira feels, he loves her just as much. I think he just feels guilty about the way he lets Chloe treat her; like she's made of glass. And he feels guilty for not saying anything about it.

As for Casey and her lack of toughness; honestly, I don't think she's ever been hurt before. When Clark was her age, even though he'd never really been hurt either, he'd still felt the effects of kryptonite a few times. Casey's not allergic to kryptonite. I mean, the blue makes her human; but she's only ever had to use it to get a haircut. And haircuts don't hurt. I think she was kind of shocked. I thought about that before I wrote it. I too felt she should have been able to tough it out; but then I thought about it and I tried to remember that she's thirteen; that The JL has grown so big that Clark probably doesn't necessarily need help from his super empowered children, nor does he want to put them in harm's way. I figured Clark would be the overprotective one in that aspect.

Oh, and the goodbye kiss thing, I've actually had a little experience with that. My oldest did that to me once. I kind of felt bad; but at the same time I figured he was eight, nearly nine. I was lucky he didn't stop when he was five or six. My youngest still kisses me goodbye though. I'll enjoy that while I can. Little kids grow up so fast! But I really feel Lizzy pays more attention to her mother than the other kids. She saw that Chloe was hurt when Johnny rejected her; and she didn't want to hurt her mother like that either. She really is a sweet kid; naïve, selfish, and a bit

of a pessimist at times; but mostly she's sweet.

**Dizzy78: **Thanks! I'm glad you liked Clark's chapter. I wasn't too sure about some parts; but I've only gotten good reviews for it so far; so I guess it's alright.

**Shonnia22: **Lol. You're not the only one who enjoyed how much Clark couldn't stand Jeremiah. And you're _definitely _not the only one to wonder why the hell Jor-el wanted to meet with Lizzy. Thanks! For the review; and I'm glad you're still enjoying this!

**Anita the angel: **Lol. You're not the first to come over here and ask that question. Um the truth is, I don't know right now. I was talking to a friend of mine; and she thinks I should, so more than likely I will for her sake; but I doubt it will be anytime soon.

**Nakala: **Welcome back! And you're right! Lizzy and Chloe have a _lot _in common. I think you're the only person to mention that. I don't know if you guys notices; but Lizzy and Chloe sort of have the same _tone _I guess you could say; a lot of their thoughts are the same and in sync. I did that on purpose;)

Don't worry, you're not the only one who think's Casey's a complete b-word;)

Lol. Original stories. I wrote half of one; and I never completed it. Why do you ask? Is it because I seem to keep writing stories with OCs in them? And I'm glad you enjoyed Clark's chapter!

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I like that Heath guy. He's kinda funny. He's a little bit too serious sometimes; but hey, my daddy's serious too and I love him to death. Um…Casey's serious too; but…well. She's okay. Sometimes. Okay, not a lot of the times; but she's uh…she's uh…Well; she's still my sister I guess. Oh, and Lizzy's kinda serious too and I still like her a lot. Okay, I love her a lot. I just don't tell her that.

Oh, and the Heath guy is really, _really,_ cool looking. I like his face a lot.

Mostly, he was really nice to me. Big boys never pay a lot of attention to me; well, my brothers do but they don't count because they're supposed to pay attention to me. But I can tell that the Heath guy was _really_ paying attention to me because we argued about Lizzy's cereal. Lizzy's _cereal _for Pete's sake! He tried to tell me_ nicely_ that I was wrong about her marshmallows. None of the other big boys woulda done that. They woulda just agreed with anything I said to get me to shut up; just so they could get me to shut up in a _nice_ way. They woulda just _tolerated _me. "Tolerate" was one of my "word of the days" when I was a little kid.

Lizzy made that game up for me. I was all mopey 'cause all the big kids got to do everything before me. _Everything_. Run fast, hear good, see through stuff, blow stuff over; just everything. I couldn't do anything _new_; but my sister told me that I could be smarter than everybody. That I could learn things, words, the big kids didn't know until later. Then she started picking out words for me to _define_. Words that she didn't think I already knew; but I did. I already knew them. So she picked out harder ones. She picked out ones from her own vocabulary homework list. _Seventh_ grade words. I wasn't even in kindergarten yet.

I didn't know those seventh grade words. It made me feel bad; but my sister just smiled at me and told me I'd do better the next day. Then it hit me. The next day! I would get another chance the next day! I smiled big at her. I said, "sure, the next day." And I skipped, and sorta kinda hopped, away.

I took a peak back at Lizzy. I only saw the side of her face; but I saw that she was smiling and shaking her head. I was only trying to take a peak; but I watched her for a long time. Well, a long time for me anyway. I couldn't help it. She was so pretty when she smiled like that. I wished I looked like her. But I didn't; and there was nothing I could do about that, so I just kinda hopped away before she could catch me staring at her.

I ran off, really fast, and I sorta took one of my mom's dictionaries. It wasn't exactly stealing, I was gonna put it back when I was done.

I sat in the bathroom, the most _private _place in the whole house, and I looked up a whole bunch of words. Words even bigger than the seventh grade ones Lizzy gave me. I made sure I would be ready for her the next day. And I was. I was so-

Off track Noley.

I do that a lot. I can be thinking about my favorite TV show, and then bamaroola! Five seconds later I'm thinking about something silly, like hats. Maybe even a hat as silly as the one the cat and the cat wore. I would soooo wear one of those if my mom would get me one. It's so tall, and cool, and stripey and-

Off track Noley Noles.

Track. Track. Track. Crap! What the heck was I thinking about anyway!

Oh yeah! That Heath guy. Duh!

Anyway, I like how that Heath guy argued with me about Lizzy's marshmallows. Of course, I already know she likes them; but if she's gonna let me have 'em then hey, more marshmallows for me, right? Right. But I pretended like I didn't know. I told him that Lizzy's _my _sister; not his. _I _know what she likes, not him. And you know what? He _still_ didn't just agree with me just to make me be quiet. He still didn't agree with me at _all_! He just told me that he knows Lizzy's not his sister.

So, I like him.

Oh, and his face is really cool looking. I like it a lot. Uh…I think I already thought about that. I think. Maybe.

"Noel?" My teacher says.

The way she says my name is like a question, so I know I'm probably in trouble. Maybe she's been calling me for a long time and I didn't answer because I've been too busy thinking about that Heath guy. Or maybe she wants me to solve the math problem that's on the board.

I don't know. It's something, so I ask her what she wants; but I do it _respectfully _like Lizzy taught me.

"Yes Mrs. Wilson?" I have to remember to make my voice sound like a question too.

"The class is lining up for lunch. Don't you think you should be in line too?"

That's a good question. Do I _think_ I should be in line too? I _think_ it over for a second. I'm not that hungry. I'm never _that_ hungry; and since I have a choice, wouldn't I rather be doing something else? Something a lot more fun than watching the yucky boys mix up all their food together so it can look like buggers? I _think_ I would. I _think_ I would rather do something else today…since I have the choice this time.

"Noel, please get up and get in line so that we can _all_ go to lunch," Mrs. Wilson says a little meaner than I _think_ she has to. If she wanted me to get in line for lunch, she shoulda just said so in the first place. She shoulda never let me _think_ I had a choice.

Grownups.

But I do what the grownup says; just so I don't get into trouble. I gotta save my troubles for the good stuff. It wouldn't make a whole lotta sense to get in trouble for something as dumb as not getting in line fast enough.

I get in the back of the line. Nobody likes to be the caboose; but it's really not so bad. Sometimes Mrs. Wilson doesn't check the back as good as she checks the front, so I can do a lot of things that I'm not supposed to. Not a lot of _bad _things; you know, nothing that breaks any of the school rules, just things that my sister, Casey, would say is annoying or stupid. Things like playing imaginary hopscotch. That's a fun one; at least it's a lot funner than walking in a straight, single file, line all the way to the cafeteria.

"_Kal-El."_ A little voice says.

I stop in the middle of what was gonna be one of my biggest hops. I just heard my cousin; and he was probably telling someone his name. Of course, his name is _actually_ Michael; Mikey for short, which isn't actually shorter if you think about it; but today, and maybe even tomorrow and the next day, his name is Kal-El.

I almost forgot I was supposed to be listening to my little cousin. That's why I was thinking of that Heath guy so much in the first place. He told me to listen to "little Kal-el."

"_I've finally found you, Kal-El. Come with me."_

Uh oh. I don't know who that lady is. She doesn't sound like any of Mikey's daycare ladies. Maybe there's a new lady there; but I just feel like I gotta check it out. I mean, why would that Heath guy tell me to listen out for my cousin if I didn't need to right?

Or maybe I just wanna get outta school.

Nah, better safe than sorry; and if my cousin is safe, then I promise on all of my luckiest stars that I'll come back to school and watch the boys make gooey buggers with their mashed potatoes, broccoli, and milk.

I look up at my teacher quickly, and I look around myself just as fast. No one's looking at me, so I sneak away from school.

Dun dun da dum! I'm on my way to save the day!

"_Are you a stranger danger?" _I hear Mikey AKA little Kal-El ask; and I hurry even faster to his voice.

Boys are dun dun da dumb! If you hafta ask, then of course she's a stranger danger, dummy!

"_Ma'am you can't take him."_

I get to the daycare just in time to see a blonde chick holding my cousin's hand and one of Mikey's daycare ladies, one that I _know_, trying to grab his hand from the blonde chick. Then, the blonde chick pushes the daycare lady on the ground. Hard. Really, really, hard. Like KO hard. The daycare lady doesn't get up after she falls; and she doesn't open her eyes either.

'_Crap!'_

_Another _daycare lady walks up to the blonde chick and she tells her that she's going to call the police; but the blonde chick pushes her down too!

The big dummy. If she keeps KO-ing all the daycare ladies, then who's gonna watch all these other little kids? Huh? Not me! That's for sure.

"Hey! Let go of him!" I yell while running up to the blonde chick; just like the daycare ladies just did.

The blonde chick looks down at me; and the look she gives me; well, she looks like she's looking at a little kid, which I am. But she looks like she's looking at an _annoying _kid; which I'm so not.

"This is none of your concern little girl. Go back to playing with the other little children."

I scrunch my eyes up at the blonde chick and kick her very hard. First, I'm not a little kid; well, not like _these_ little kids. They probably don't even know their ABCs yet, that's how little they are. And two; that's my cousin she's trying to take with her. Just 'cause _I _don't want him doesn't mean she can have him. That's still my auntie and uncle's kid and there's no way they'd let _her _have him.

I _regret _kicking the blonde chick after I do it though. I mean, I knew that when I kicked her I wouldn't break any of her bones or anything like that 'cause she's definitely not human; but at the same time, I _realize _that if she hits me back, it'll hurt. Bad. I've never been hit before. I kinda don't want to get hit _now_ either. It doesn't look all that fun. I've seen the way kids cry when they get hurt. Maybe they only cry because they're crybabies anyway; but I've seen my sister cry when she gets hurt. If _Lizzy_ can't take the pain, then I don't think I'll be able to either.

"Dad!" I yell, just in case the blonde chick _does _decide to hit me; but I kinda don't think she will. At least not right now. She's touching her leg, the spot where I kicked her, and she's looking at me kinda funny. Betcha it's because she didn't think a kick from me would hurt all that much. And trust me; I made sure it hurt.

And since she's holding on to her leg and not Mikey's hand no more, I snatch my cousin's hand and start running away from her really, _really_, fast. Mikey's not supposed to see me use my powers because he's so little but with a big mouth that can't hold _any_ secrets yet; but I really think I'll get out of trouble for this one. It's an emergency; a _real _emergency.

I hear a noise; yeah, I hear lots of noises but this one is really close; and before I can even figure out that it's a bad sound, Mikey's screaming and I'm on the ground. I get up quickly 'cause I know the blonde chick is the reason I fell down; and I know she's the reason my cousin is screaming his little head off.

I can tell we're somewhere close to Smallville right now. I can tell by all the cornfields and the fact that we're all alone. If we were anywhere near Metropolis, we would've probably got hit by a car by now; but I don't have time to figure out _exactly _where we are because the first thing I see when I get up is the blonde chick holding my cousin up by his arms, his _upper _arms, and she's _frowning _at him. And I thought boys were the dun dun da dumb ones! Good grief! She must've come straight from Krypton, Dad's home planet, if she really can't tell what's wrong with him. I mean, he keeps screaming, "Ow, my arm!" over and over again; but she's just staring at him like she's trying to find the mute button on a TV remote.

I x-ray his arm. Dad thinks he taught me how to do it last month, on my eighth birthday; but the truth is I've known how to x-ray since I was a little kid; since I was just a little bit older than Mikey; uh…maybe not just a _little_ older than Mikey. Maybe about a year. I think I was four.

Anyway, I really wanted to learn how to do it 'cause all the other kids could do it; but the parents said no because it's a very _invasive _power and that I would understand when I got older. Well, I didn't have to wait 'til I got older. I just had to wait 'til Andrew got home from school. He taught me under one condition. Don't tell the parents that I could do it. I agreed _immediately_. It was an easy condition.

After I learned, I used it all day and for every little thing. I was so excited, I thought it was so cool, and I was so proud of myself; but, after the first day, I didn't use it again until Dad "taught" me on my eighth birthday. I didn't _want_ to use it again until _Dad_ thought I was old enough 'cause he was so right. I wasn't old enough to x-ray yet. If I was older, I wouldn't have x-rayed the parent's room the night I learned. But since I was still a little kid I x-rayed the parent's room just 'cause I could; just 'cause I was being nosey; and I kind of saw something that I'll never be able to un-see. And I really, _really_, wish I could un-see what I saw.

Off track, Noley.

I concentrate on my cousin's arms; and I look them over quickly but carefully. I'm not exactly sure of what I _am _looking for. I mean, everything looks pretty normal except for that line above his elbow…wait…is that a…oh, no!

"His arm is broken you stupid donkey!" I yell at the stupid blonde chick. I can't say jackass yet. If I could, I woulda called her one; but my brother says donkey means the same thing. And since I'm allowed to say donkey, I can say jackass without actually _saying _jackass. Uh…but only if I don't say it in front of the parents 'cause Andrew says they wouldn't understand the difference between a jackass and a donkey, even if I'm allowed to say the word donkey. It's confusing; but I didn't question him. I trust Andrew.

Off track Noley.

I'm supposed to be thinking, _doing, _something about the stupid blonde chick who broke my cousin's arm. _Broke _it! Was _that_ the _bad _sound I heard just before I fell down? My cousin's arm breaking? I can't believe she pulled on him so hard that she broke his arm! I can't believe the big dumb alien is _still_ holding him up by his arms!

I rush up to her and tug on her arm. She needs to put him down. I gotta take him to the hospital. I gotta tell my auntie. My auntie. Man, is my Auntie Lois gonna kick this stupid alien's-

"Put Mikey down!" I yell while trying to pull him out of her arms.

The stupid blonde chick looks down at me. No, she _glares _down at me. Me! She's the one who broke a little boy's arm and she's glaring at _me_! What…A…Donkey! Ugh, she's lucky I'm not allowed to say jackass!

The blonde donkey tries to push me away; but I hold on tight, I don't let go, and I don't fall down. Not this time.

"Put my cousin down!" I yell again.

The stupid alien blonde chick gives me that look again. The same look she gave me when I kicked her. Like she's confused. See, big…dumb…alien. What the heck is so confusing about "put my cousin down?"

Don-key.

"Who are you?" She asks calmly. _Calmly_! My cousin's still crying cause she's holding on to his broken arm; his face is that magenta color, and it's wet from tears, eww, and nasty snot. How can she talk with such a calm voice?

"Dad!" I yell for my daddy because he'll hear me, and I really need his help really bad! This blonde chick is crazy, and _obviously_ one of _his _people.

But my dad doesn't come.

"Dad!" I yell again.

The blonde chick moves Mikey into just one of her arms, like a normal person holds a kid; the other arm, she raises, almost like she's gonna hit me. She probably _is_ gonna hit me.

"Dad!" I yell again before putting my arms up to protect my face. If I hafta get hit, I'd rather get hit on my arm than on my face.

I also wonder where my daddy is. He shoulda been here by now. I called him a bazillion, gazillion, times already!

I hope he's OK.

I close my eyes, and just as I do, I hear a sound. A good sound. One that means my daddy is _finally_ coming. But when I open my eyes, I don't see my dad. I see my sister. I see Casey.

She has Mikey in her hands, and she's pushed the blonde chick down. Hard. Before I can even wonder why _she's _here and not my daddy, the blonde lady gets back up and she looks really mad.

Casey moves really fast, faster than I've ever seen her move before, and she puts my cousin down on the ground before charging after the blonde chick. The blonde chick charges at Casey too, so now it's my turn to move fast 'cause I gotta get Mikey out of the way before one of them falls on him. He's not like us. He could die if something like that happens to him.

As soon as I pick my cousin up, the blonde chick gives me all of her attention and ignores my sister. She's glaring at me again; and I just know she's gonna get me.

She pushes my sister down; and not just down on the ground, she pushes her far away and through a lot of corn. Then the blonde chick starts walking toward me.

I think I'm scared. It's a new feeling for me so I'm not sure; but I can't seem to move, I can't seem to breathe right, my hands feel sticky, and I feel like I'm gonna have an accident in my pants soon.

"Noley, I want my mommy," Mikey cries against my neck. He can only hold onto me with one arm because the other one is broken. _She_, the stupid donkey who's probably about to kill me, broke it.

Then she's on the ground, and Casey's on top of her.

"Damn it Noley, run!" my sister yells at me. It kinda makes me a little angry. I know I shoulda ran a long time ago; but she doesn't have to make it seem like I'm stupid or something. I'm not stupid, I just…even though I don't like Casey most of the time, I don't want to leave without her. What if the stupid blonde lady hurts her? I don't want _anybody _to hurt my sister; even if she's a donkey too.

"_Noley_, I want my-my Mommy _now_!" Mikey wails.

I've got a _dilemma_. Mikey's arm is broken. I should take him to the hospital; but at the same time, there's a crazy blonde chick who's trying to kill my sister. I should help her.

So what do I do?

I watch the blonde chick flip Casey over onto her back and punch her in the face. There's blood. She hit my sister really hard; and it makes me really mad. Without even thinking about it, I put Mikey down and I run up to the blonde chick and I kick her in the face really hard. I hope it hurt. I hope there's blood.

There is; but it doesn't stop the blonde chick from hurting my sister; and it doesn't stop her from hurting me either. She hits me. She smacks me in the mouth. She smacks me so hard that I fly backwards, and into some corn, just like Casey did a few seconds ago. She smacks me so hard that I have to spit when I get up because there's a very nasty taste in my mouth.

Ew, it's blood. Gosh, that stuff is nasty. It tastes like…like…nasty, dirty, pennies or something.

I wipe my mouth and I go after her again. That really hurt a lot. I almost cried; well, a tear did come out of my eye but that was it. It was just the one tear because I can't let more come. If the blonde chick only hit me one time and all I want is to cry for my daddy to come and get me; then I don't even want to think about how my sister feels. The blonde chick must've hit her about thirty times by now. Casey must want Mommy and Daddy and Johnny and Lizzy and Andrew and Grandma and Uncle Ollie and Mia and Auntie Lois and a lot of other people by now. But she's only got me; and I know she doesn't want me 'cause I'm not as strong as everybody else; but I can help.

When I get to the spot where I last saw Casey and that blonde chick fighting, they're still there. Sort of. They're kind of rolling around a lot; and they're _definitely_ hitting each other a lot more. Suddenly the blonde chick is on top, and she's kind of got my sister pinned down. I rush at her, and I tackle her the way I've seen my brothers tackle each other a million times. I run straight into her; and I wrap my arms around her middle, and I don't let go.

It works! Holy smokes I can't believe it actually worked! I'm on top! Yes!

But I can't be too happy for too long. The blonde chick is glaring up at me. She's going to hit me again.

I blink, and when my eyes open again, Casey is right by me and her hand is on the blonde chick's throat, squeezing very tightly.

"Don't you dare _think_ about hitting her _ever _again!" Casey yells at the blonde chick.

The blonde chick moves a little, and I hold her hands down so she can't hit my sister. I know she really wants too. I don't. For probably the first time in my life, I _don't_ want to hit my sister. In fact, I'm so happy I could kiss her. I didn't know she liked me _that_ much. I had no clue she would get mad at someone for hurting me.

"I thought I told you to run, and take Mikey with you!" Casey yells at me.

And just like that, all of my happy feelings go away. She's such a donkey. If I _had_ listened to her, she'd probably be dead by now. The blonde chick under us would've made sure of that; but noooo, I get yelled at because I helped.

Lizzy would've at least said thank you.

"Where's Lizzy at anyway? Why are _you _the one who came?" I ask my sister. I'm kinda pouting; and I'm sure she wants to call me a brat; but she answers me like she doesn't have time _to _call me a brat.

"She's playing hide and go seek," is her answer. She doesn't even look at me when she talks.

Ugh, if I could, I would just pinch her really hard right now. I hate it when she acts like I'm not important.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Casey yells at the blonde chick under us.

She doesn't answer. Maybe because Casey's grip is too tight on her throat. Duh!

"Where's Johnny then? Or Andrew? Or Dad?" Gosh, I'll even take Sammy over her at this point.

"They're trying to find her; now will you just shut the hell up so I can get answers from the lady who just tried to kill us and kidnap Auntie Lois's kid!"

"She can't talk with you holding onto her throat so tight, _Kristin,_" I say; and I use my sister's real name on purpose 'cause she hates it.

"Shut up!" she yells back at me.

"Make me," I dare her.

"My business is with neither of you. I just want the boy. I just want Kal-el," the blonde chick says.

I scrunch my eyes up really tight. I can understand why she would want my daddy; but, "What the heck do you want with Mikey," I ask while looking back at my cousin. He's sitting down on the ground now, and he's still holding on to his arm; but he's not really crying anymore. Well, he's not really crying very _loud _anymore.

"I only want Kal-el. I have no interest in this Mikey."

I'm kinda confused, and I'm about to tell her that but Casey talks first.

"What do you want with Kal-el?" she demands.

I look at my sister instead of looking down at the blonde chick. Isn't she confused about why the blonde chick says she doesn't want Mikey; but tried to take him anyway too? Wait, never mind. Mikey _told_ her his name is Kal-el. But then, shouldn't that have confused the blonde chick? Shouldn't she have known that Kal-el isn't a little kid?

"My father sent me to watch over him," the blonde chick says; but I get the feeling that she didn't want to say it; which means she's probably telling the truth.

"And who's your father?" Casey asks. I get the feeling that_ she_ doesn't give a flying hootin' nanny if the blonde chick is telling the truth or not.

"Zor-el," she answers.

I look at my sister. My sister looks at me. Dad's fortress daddy's name is _Jor_-el.

"Any relation to Jor-el?" Casey asks the blonde chick. She's still holding onto her throat kinda tight. I think she should loosen up a little. I think this blonde chick might be family.

"Jor-el and Zor-el are brothers," the blonde chick explains.

I get excited. She _is_ family! I knew it!

I jump off of her; and it makes Casey yell at me. She wants me to keep holding her down; but…the blonde chick's family. _Family!_ Why should I keep holding her down? So I ignore my sister. She's just a big ole donkey anyway.

"Jor-el's our grandpa. So we're family. I'm Noley. This is Casey. Call her Kristin if you want to make her mad. She's my sister. What's your name?" I ask the blonde chick. I'm kinda getting tired of calling her "the blonde chick" anyway.

"Impossible," the blonde chick says.

"Impossible is a dumb name, you gotta nickname?" I answer back. I know Impossible's not her name; but I couldn't resist. My Auntie Lois woulda been proud of that one. I might tell her what I said later.

"I don't understand," the blonde chick says. I wanna tell her that that's an even worse name; but I don't get the chance to. Casey's talking to the blonde chick while pointing behind herself at Mikey.

"_That _is a human child; and his name is Michael, not Kal-el. Kal-el isn't a kid anymore. He's our father," Casey tells her while getting up slowly.

The blonde chick gets up slowly too. I have a feeling she doesn't really want to fight anymore. At least I hope she doesn't 'cause _I _sure as heck don't want to fight anymore. It's not very fun.

"What's your name?" I ask her again. Maybe she'll answer me this time.

"How old was Kal-el when you last saw him?" Casey asks.

I make a face at her. Why's she asking that? And what's up with her calling Dad Kal-el all of a sudden? Nobody ever calls him Kal-el. It's always Dad, Clark, Superman, Kent, or Smallville if you're Auntie Lois.

"Just a baby," the blonde chick says while staring at Mikey. "He should be about three years old now. That's how long it takes to get to this planet."

I almost get to ask the blonde chick for her name again; but Casey's faster and asks her a different question.

"Did Zor-el send you here _from_ Krypton?"

Me and the blonde chick make the same face at my sister. That was a very dumb question. Where else would the blonde chick come from?

"How old were you when you left?"

That's a stupid question too if you ask me. How is it important for us to know how old the blonde chick was when she left Krypton? But the blonde chick answers anyway.

"Eighteen."

Casey stares at the blonde chick and crosses her arms over her chest. She looks like Dad.

"You look very young," Casey points out.

The blonde chick is looking at my cousin again so she doesn't see the look on my face when she tells my sister that she was in suspended animation.

"What the heck is suspended animation?"

The blonde chick blinks a little. Then she looks at me with her eyebrows dipped like the letter V.

"It means I didn't age while I was in my ship," she answers.

"Ship!" I scream. "You gotta ship! Oh, can I see it please? Please Cuz?" I beg my new cousin with big pouty lips.

Um, I think she's my cousin anyway; and since she won't tell me her name, I had to think of something to call her that was better than "the blonde chick."

Casey shakes her head at me and rolls her eyes before walking away. She's nowhere near as pretty as Lizzy when she does it. Maybe 'cause Lizzy's not being a donkey when _she _does it.

I watch Casey go over to Mikey. I'm probably the worst cousin ever 'cause I forgot all about him. Then Casey picks Mikey up and walks back over to me and our new cuz.

"I'm gonna take Mikey to the Smallville hospital. You take _her _home so she can wait for Kal-el there."

I scowl at my sister. She's so bossy. And her calling Daddy Kal-el is really irritating. But she ignores my scowl. She just runs off with Mikey.

"Casey says I gotta take you to my house so dad can deal with you," I tell my new cuz.

My new cuz doesn't say anything; but she doesn't look like she's gonna hit me or anything so that's good I guess.

"What's your name again?" I ask her.

My new cuz _still _doesn't say anything. She just looks over at the spot where Casey ran off. She looks like she wants to follow behind her.

That would be bad.

"If you wanna see Kal-el, you gotta follow me," I tell my new cuz. I kinda understand why Casey kept saying Dad's real name now. Our new cuz doesn't know any of his earth names. She doesn't even want to believe that he's not three years old anymore. Boy does Daddy have his hands full with this one.

"You will take me to Kal-el?"

I smile. Now we're getting somewhere!

"Sure! But first, you gotta tell me your name."

"Kara," my new cuz, _Kara,_ says.

"Kara huh? That's _way_ better than Impossible. I'm Noley okay? Remember that," I tell her before running off toward my house. I already know she'll follow me. She really, _really_, wants to see my dad, _Kal-el_.

"Mom!" I yell really loud when I get in the house. I always yell really loud so she can hear me. Her hearing's not as good as mine. Her hearing's not as good as anybody's in our family.

"Mom!" I run up the stairs really fast. She's probably in her room or something.

And I'm right. She _is_ in her room; but it looks like she didn't hear me calling her. She's just sitting in bed reading some old notebooks.

"Mommy!" I yell at her 'cause I can; and so that I can get her _full _attention.

She jumps up; and she blinks _really_ fast at me. She's probably wondering why I'm not in school.

"Noley! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in"-

"School, Mom. I know, but look who I found!" I interrupt her 'cause I'm so excited. I turn a little bit so I can yell for Kara to come upstairs and meet my mom; but I don't get to say anything. My mom screams "No!" real loud; and then runs to me and she pulls me to her.

I'm kinda confused. She's acting really weird.

I try to take a step back; just so I can look at her and ask her what's wrong; but she doesn't let me. She just holds on tighter to me. She doesn't let me go anywhere.

I push at her just a little bit. I don't want to hurt her. I just want her to let me go so I can show her our new cousin; but she won't let go of me. She's crying; and she keeps saying "please don't take my baby," over and over again. But _nobody's_ trying to take me! That's the weird part.

"Mom! I'm fine, okay?" I try; but I don't think she's listening to me.

"Mom?"

No answer.

"_Mom_?"

Just more squeezing and crying.

"Mommy! I want you to meet somebody. Can you just let go for a few seconds and I'll bring her upstairs?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" my mom asks. She still hasn't let me go; in fact, she's holding on even tighter; but I know she's talking to Kara. Looks like I won't have to go down there to get her. She came up here to me; which is good 'cause I don't think my mom's gonna let me to go downstairs right now.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you Mom!" I have to yell because she's pulling my face so tight against her shirt that I don't think she would hear me if I was to talk normally.

"This is Kara. Casey told me to bring her home so she can wait for Dad. She's my cousin! Well, her dad's name is _Zor-el_. He's Jor-el's brother, so that means we're cousin's right mom?"

"How do you know this woman?"

It's Cousin Kara; and I don't know why she just asked me that. I mean, hello! I keep calling her "Mom!" Don't they have moms on Krypton?

"Why do you ask?" my mom answers for me.

I really don't see what the big deal is. Why can't we just tell Kara that my mom is my mom?

"Can you tell me where to find her?" Kara asks; and I get completely confused. Why would she ask where to find my mom? My mom's already here…unless she was talking about someone else; but who would she be talking about?

I turn my head a little. My mom still hasn't let up on me yet; but I can see a little. Kara's holding a picture. I can't see who's in the picture but I can see a little bit of dark, red, curly hair. There's only one person in our family with hair like that.

Lizzy.

"What do you want with her?" my mom asks while snatching the picture out of Kara's hands; and at the same time she lets me go. Sort of; I'm turned around so that I can face Kara, and my back is to my mom now; but her arms are still around me. I still can't get away.

Rats!

"Do you know where she is?"

My mom doesn't answer her; so I do it.

"That's my sister. Casey said she's playing hide and go seek, remember Kara?"

Kara frowns at me; but not because my mom just covered my mouth with her hands and shushed me. "Your sister? That's impossible," she says.

I roll my eyes. There goes that word again.

"Well who do ya think it is?"

My mom shushes me again, and she takes a step backward, pulling me with her; but then Kara says, "That is Mor-el, of the house of el. She is the elder sister of Jor-el and Zor-el," and my mom stops walking.

"Clark!" my mom yells so loud I have to cover my ears. I don't know what's wrong with Jor-el having a sister that looks like my sister. Casey looks just like Mom. But my mom seems really…_scared_; like I was before Kara even hit me; like how my hands got sticky and I was breathing funny.

I really hope Daddy comes this time.

I really think Mommy needs him to make her feel better.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **Okay, so it's been about 16 years since I was an eight year old. I can write _about _children; but getting inside one's head was a bit more uh…_challenging_. Hopefully I did Noley justice and you don't completely hate her now.

Also, I _do _realize there's no such thing as a Mor-el. This is AU remember;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Anonymous: **Lol, I never planned on stopping when the show was over. I love Chlark too much; and besides, Chlark have been over for years but I still write about 'em.

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Dizzy78: **Ha, ha. I think you're right. Noley definitely has a crush on Heath.

**Nakala: **Well thank you! I'm glad you think I did good with my OCs. I might just finish that original story I started a while ago;)

Lol. Noley is a little unfocused. I think she has ADHD; but it's exaggerated because she's half Clark;)

**The fallen sky: **Thanks! I think this is the fifth time in a row that you've maxed out your allotted review space. Lol. It's always so much fun to see your reviews. You always pick up on the smallest details and make a big deal of them. Sometimes you even predict a few things to come; so I have to be careful with how I respond so that I don't give certain things away. We'll get into that later; like after the next chapter later;)

I'm so glad you liked Noley. I told you she's not bad or unruly. She's just a little eccentric. And I'm so glad she didn't irk you. I felt she was a little _too _energetic at times; but then I had to remember that it was part of her character. And that's who I wanted her to be from the get-go.

**Shonnia22: **Thanks! And lol, a gnat, yeah that's right! She really did jump around from topic to topic didn't she? And I'm glad you still liked her. Part of your top favs huh? Who are the others? 'cause I don't think it gets any better than Noley Kent;)

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I get home quickly; not nearly quick enough; but oddly, and illogically, _too _quickly. When my wife called for me, there was a sense of urgency in the way she said my name. It let me know that I needed to get to her as soon as possible; but that I would not like what I found once I was in her presence. It let me know that whatever I found, or learned, would change my life forever; probably for the worst. Who in their right minds would look forward to something like that?

Not me; but my wife might really need me. I don't have the luxury of procrastination.

So I don't stop when I reach the porch. If there's someone in my house who doesn't know who I am, I doubt it matters. I have a feeling that whatever I find, whatever made Chloe yell for me like that, is bigger than my secret. In fact, I have a feeling that whatever I'm about to walk into has everything to do _with_ my secret; with everything to do with who I am; with everything to do with where I come from; and with everything to do with anyone who might've come from there as well.

I run straight into my bedroom; and I don't stop until I'm standing directly in front of my wife, my wife who's okay physically from what I can see after doing a very quick scan.

I almost fall down on my knees before her, wrap my arms around her, and bury my face in her stomach. I want to apologize to her for losing our daughter; for not listening to her when she told me this would happen. I want to ask for forgiveness I don't deserve. I just want to hide my face from her until she tells me I'm forgiven and that she still loves me. But I don't do any of that. I have an audience; my eight year old daughter and a woman standing about five feet away from my wife.

"Daddy! I've been calling you for _forever_! But you came this time! I knew you would! This is Kara, Dad! She's looking for _Kal-El_."

I glance behind myself, at the woman named Kara, and I…_observe _her while my daughter continues to talk.

"Casey said to bring her here while she takes Mikey to the hospital because Kara broke his arm; but she did it by _accident _because she didn't know he's _human_. She thought he was Kal-El because Mikey keeps saying his name is Kal-El. She thinks Kale-El is still a little boy. Right Kara?"

I keep my eyes on Kara. I don't think she's going to respond to my daughter. She's too busy…_observing _me. And even if she was going to respond, she wouldn't have gotten the chance to do so because my daughter continues to speak as if she had never asked a question that _wasn't _rhetorical,

"Oh! And her dad's name is _Zor_-El! He's _Jor-El's_ _brother_. Did you know that? Did you know that Jor-El had a brother? Huh? That means Kara's our cousin right? Oh, and Jor-El had a sister too! Her name's _Mor-_El! Did you know _that, _Dad? Kara says"-

"Noel," I say while turning away from _Kara _and giving Noley my full attention. That's all it takes for my daughter to stop talking; and it's all it takes to bring moisture to her eyes and a tremble to her bottom lip.

Her name is Noley as far as I've ever been concerned; has been since the day she was born. It's how I introduced her to her siblings. She's _always _been my little Noley Noles. I don't think I've ever called her Noel before.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," my daughter apologizes immediately. I don't think she knows why she's apologizing. All she knows is that she's displeased me in some way. She has to believe that. That's the only reason any of my daughters' full names are used; when we, my wife and I, are displeased with their behavior.

I can't say that Noley's ever displeased me. Everything about her is absolutely perfect; even her name. It suits her. She's the very epitome of Christmas to me. She's all smiles; full of not just holiday, but _everyd_ay cheer; hopeful; giving; and easily brighter than any extravagantly decorated house on Christmas Eve.

But Christmas is not always the best time to let your guard down. Christmas is not always the time to believe in people; especially a person who could dress up as Santa, come down the chimney, and be welcomed by small children; children who would never suspect him of being a thief, a pedophile, or a murderer.

Noley can't always trust people because they _say _they're family.

And neither should Casey for that matter. What was she thinking? Why would she send this Kryptonian woman here, to her home, where her human mother and baby sister are?

"Are you Kal-El?"

I pick my daughter up, move to stand slightly in front of my wife, and turn to face the woman in my bedroom. She sounds…young. There's an authoritative bite to her voice; but I can also hear a more subtle tone underling it. Like she's hoping I tell her that I'm not Kal-El, like it would _relieve _her if I told her that I'm not Kal-El.

"Yes, I'm Kal-El," I tell her gently, as if I'm a doctor bringing bad news to family and friends; but firmly and with conviction so she will know that I'm telling her the truth.

"But you can't be Kal-El. He's a sweet, chubby baby who laughed when you tickled his feet," Kara counters immediately.

I frown at her. She doesn't look old enough to know what I was like when I was a baby.

"You knew me on Krypton?" I ask doubtfully.

"Yeah. I used to watch over you. I don't understand. I mean, I left the planet right after you. We were on the same trajectory," she explains; but what she's saying still doesn't make sense.

"Mom!"

I watch my son, Andrew, as he runs into the bedroom and skids to a stop in front of me.

"Oh, hey dad, Noley; and uh…you," he says while giving Kara the once over. Then he lifts an eyebrow, nonverbally asking who the "chick" is.

"Her name's Kara, Droopy." It's all my daughter says. I have a feeling she wants to say more; possibly even divulge the full story of Kara, Zor-El, Jor-El, Kal-El, and little Kal-El but…

Little Kal-El.

"_Make sure you listen to little Kal-El."_

He said that. Heath did. He whispered it to my little girl. I thought he'd been referring to me. He _had _to have been talking about me; because he couldn't possibly have been talking about my three year old nephew, Mikey. He just couldn't have. How could he have known Mikey would need to be looked after in the first place? How could he have known a Kryptonian girl would appear and try to find a young Kal-El? How could he _possibly_ have known _any _of that!

"Noley! How many times have I told you not to call me Droopy?"

"Uh…you _never_ told me not to call you Droopy, Droopy."

I look over at my son; and I feel my temper begin to rise. He's…trying to _impress _this woman. He doesn't want her to know that he lets his little sister call him Droopy. His sister, my Moira, is missing for Christ's sake! And there's a good chance this woman had something to do with her disappearance. Maybe she and _Heath _are working together. Maybe he'd been a distraction sent to rattle me. Maybe Kara was a distraction too; one who's intention was to distract me by using my nephew as bait, like the kryptonite filled hospital had been. Maybe they're all working with Zod. Maybe Heath is Kryptonian as well. Maybe that's why he wasn't afraid of me. He felt we were equals.

We're not equals.

I have a family. I will do anything in my power to ensure their safety; and with that thought resounding in my head, I hand my eight year old daughter, my Noley Noles who claims she can walk every time someone tries to pick her up, to her mother. I do so without looking at Chloe. I'm aware of the fact that I haven't looked my wife in the eyes since I got here.

But I can't do it.

Not until I find our Moira. Not until I make everything right.

Noley doesn't say anything once she's in her mother's arms. Chloe doesn't say anything either. Via my peripheral vision, I see her hold our daughter close; and I see that my daughter doesn't so much as squirm to get down. She lets her mother hold her.

That's good. I'm sure Chloe needs it.

Then I leave before my wife can blink; but before doing so, I grab onto Kara and I take her with me.

She struggles a little; but I'm stronger and determined.

She doesn't stand a chance.

She tells me to let go of her; but I ignore her. I don't even look at her; not even when I reach my destination.

I'm back in my fortress. Jor-El and I have so much more to talk about.

"My son," he welcomes me. As if I hadn't been here mere minutes ago; as if I hadn't accused him of taking my daughter from me, and as if I hadn't been seconds away from tearing this place down with my bare hands.

"This is _Kara_, Don't you recognize her? She's your niece, right," I yell forcefully.

This can go one of two ways. Either this Kara is lying and I'll deal with her accordingly; or she's telling me the truth. Jor-El has a brother, who has a daughter, and he never told me about either of them.

Jor-El doesn't answer. Kara does. She looks around herself quickly, taking in everything about my fortress before looking upward.

"Jor-El?" She questions.

I get my answer. Kara is telling the truth. I can hear it in her voice; and I can see it in her face. She knew my father. She knew me as a baby on Krypton. Zor-El is her father. She's my family.

Kara looks to me. It doesn't seem as though Jor-El wants to speak while she's here, let alone directly to her.

I'm not surprised; but it doesn't stop me from getting angrier with him. How can he be so…so _silent _at a time like this? He's always had something to say before. He's always had some task for me to perform, some form of advice to offer, some lesson he felt I just _needed_ to learn in order to fulfill my destiny as this earth's protector. But now, when I need him the most, he has nothing to say? Nothing at all?

I sigh heavily. Being angry with Jor-El is not going to get him to talk to me; and venting by destroying this place with my bare hands isn't going to get me anywhere. It's most certainly not going to get me my daughter back. So I leave. I walk outside. Walk. I can run away, even fly away; but I just walk outside of my fortress.

I need to find my daughter; I _know_ it's _imperative _that I find her as soon as possible, but I also need to stop and think because I've been through this before; when she went missing just yesterday in fact. I feel like I searched the whole galaxy for my daughter; but I still didn't find her. I could do it again; just search the whole globe and hope I find her; but I feel like I'm missing something; something important, and if I can figure out what _it _is I'll be that much closer to figuring out where _she_ is.

I hear Kara come up beside me; but she doesn't say anything. So I decide to be the one to strike up a conversation. She was there on Krypton with Jor-El and all the _other _Els after all. She might be able to give me some of the answers I need.

"Jor-El never mentioned your dad." I mention, beginning with the part of history I have no knowledge of whatsoever.

"He and his brother never talked," she shrugs as if it's no big deal.

It is a big deal; especially if it's having a direct effect on my family the way I suspect it is.

"Why not?" I ask with a tone I hope I pulled off as slightly curious and not desperately eager to get answers.

Kara sighs beside me. She's starting to get impatient with me. I've seen my Casey make that face at her mother plenty of times. This woman is most definitely family.

"The House of El has a lot of family secrets that nobody ever discussed. As humans would say, we were... dysfunctional. Look, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but right now we need to find my ship. I'd do it myself, but those green rocks…they keep weakening me.

I hesitate before answering her. Should I tell her just how dangerous kryptonite is? Do I trust her enough to give her that kind of knowledge? Then I mentally shrug. It won't really benefit or hinder me in the least if she does or doesn't learn about kryptonite and the affect it has on Kryptonians.

"Stay away from them. If you're around them too long, they can kill you," I warn her.

Her eyes widen. "Kill me? Zor-El told me that the yellow sun would give me abilities beyond my wildest dreams, but he definitely never mentioned any fatal weaknesses," she frowns. It's because she's doubting me. I don't blame her. Why would she believe me, a complete stranger, over her own father; but at the same time I need her to believe me. I need her to trust me completely. People, even Kryptonians, don't usually trust strangers with their deepest darkest secrets.

"It's because he didn't know. The green rocks, they're called Kryptonite; radioactive pieces of our home world," I explain.

"How did pieces of Krypton travel 23 galaxies?" she challenges disbelievingly.

It's my turn to frown disbelievingly at her. "You don't know what happened after you left?"

She matches my frown; but she still answers me. "Well, I know we were in the midst of a global civil war led by General Zod. Zor-El told me that Krypton's salvation was on Earth and that you and I were the key. I hope we're not too late."

Oh, we're too late all right. Nearly thirty six years too late in fact. Where has she been all this time?

"What?" She asks warily; probably because I'm wearing my thoughts on my face. She may not be able to read exactly what's happened to our home planet there; but she knows it's bad. I take a deep breath before answering.

"Kara, Krypton is gone."

"What do you mean, "gone"?" she scoffs back at me.

"It exploded. You and I are the only survivors," I explain with a sigh. She doesn't believe me. She thinks I've lost my mind. I can see it on her face.

"No. Planets don't just explode, Kal-El," she says; confirming my previous thoughts.

"Ours did. I'm sorry,"

"No. This yellow sun has fried your brain cells. Come on. Help me with my ship. We can hide it on your farm," she answers stubbornly before taking off. I take off after her, amazed but not particularly surprised that she can fly already.

We land a few minutes later, a few miles south of Reeves Dam; which is no longer a dam. I suspect this is where she landed. She must've crashed into the dam, causing it to break.

I gaze down toward the town. There should be flooding, _heavy _flooding; but there isn't. Everyone's safe. I guess Kara isn't as callous as I assumed she would be.

"Kal-El, my ship is missing!" She yells impatiently. It gives me the impression that that this isn't her first time telling me; that she's just repeated herself; maybe even more than once.

"Your ship's missing?" I echo with a frown.

"If it's missing, then humans took it. Kal-El, if anyone but me tries to open that ship, it will activate the self-destruct sequence," she explains in a panicked rush.

My frown grows twice in size when she says that. "Define self-destruct," I demand.

"I think you call it something like a... nuclear explosion."

I take a deep breath. Of course. A nuclear explosion. What else?

"Does your ship just explode when opened by someone else or does it give off a kind of warning first; like an alarm?" I ask her. It's a long shot, comparing a Kryptonian spacecraft to a manmade car; but I've honestly got nothing to lose and everything to gain by asking.

"Well, yeah. If it's opened, of course there's an alarm;" she explains in what I like to call the "duh voice." Then her tone changes to one of a more serious nature quickly soon after as she says, "But Kal-El, if that alarm's been triggered, I'm the only one who can disarm it."

"What does your ship sound like?" I ask her.

"What?"

I try not to lose my patience with her. She may be able to survive a nuclear blast; but humans can't. My wife, my friends, family, co-workers, their families; they can't survive one. I need to find that ship; and I need to find it now.

"If your ship is emitting an alarm, then you can hear it, even if it's miles away. It's one of our abilities. You have to focus. Block everything else out. Just try," I supply a little impatiently. A little _too _impatiently. She just gives me a doubtful look before telling me that she doesn't hear anything but the wind.

I take a deep breath inwardly while simultaneously making an effort to soften my tone of voice. "Close your eyes. It might help. Try to focus. I know you can do it. Just try to listen to all the sounds around you," I offer as gently, fatherly, and encouragingly as I can.

She hesitates for a second before closing her eyes like I ask; then I watch as a few more seconds worth of hesitation settle onto her features before her eyebrows dip into that familiar frown of concentration.

"Make it stop. Make it stop. Oh, make it stop," she gasps suddenly while clapping her hands against her ears tightly.

She must be able to hear _too_ much. I should have thought about that. I should have remembered how excruciatingly loud it was when I first developed "sensitive" hearing.

I grab her hands and pull on them so she can hear me before yelling for her to calm down and to just take deep breaths. She shakes her head, snatches her hands from mine, and continues to cover her ears; but not before she gives me a look that suggests I betrayed her trust. I don't expect it to make me feel much of anything; but it does. I feel like I let her down. I truly feel bad; sorry even. But me feeling sorry for hurting her isn't going to make her feel any better.

I should remember that. There are no words to describe how I feel about losing my daughter; but avoiding my wife because of the guilt isn't going to make anything better. She's still going to hurt; she _is _hurting; probably worse than she has to be because of the way I've been treating her; just because _I _don't want to see the looks on her face; the blame, the hurt, the hate. She has to hate me. But I deserve it.

I _did _make a deal with someone. Not with Zod, and not the way Chloe must think I did. Definitely not the way her nightmares have insinuated throughout the years. I just never told her about it because I was, and still am, ashamed of what I'd done; and I wouldn't let myself believe that what I'd done had anything to do with what Chloe's been dreaming about. I wouldn't let myself believe that what I'd done had anything to do with _anything _besides Lana's death.

"Kal-El!"

I blink a few times. Now is not the time to remember what I did. I need to focus on what's in front of me; focus on one problem at a time. Starting with Kara and her ship.

"Listen," I call urgently as I grab her wrists again. This time it's not so much of an impatient grab; it's more of an urgent one; letting her know just how important this is without being as much as an ass as I was before. "Listen. I know it's loud at first, but you have to focus, okay? Eliminate the sounds one by one until all you can hear is your ship," I finish gently.

She listens to me. I can tell by the way she's closed her eyes, and the look of concentration on her face. And I can see when her ability begins to work for her. Her face relaxes. She's no longer being burdened by every sound on the face of the planet.

"Kal-El, I…I can hear it." She smiles in amazement a few seconds later.

"Then we can find it." I smile back.

I don't think she sees me smile at her. She's already on the move, heading toward the sound of her ship.

I follow behind her, and when I stop I nearly shake my head. The cellar. That's where her ship was? The whole time? In my cellar? It's a relief. A huge relief. That means one of my children, and _not _a human, found it first.

I had every intention on watching Kara disarm her ship; but I happen to glance around my cellar and I immediately spot my wife, her cousin, and Casey. The thought, _'uh-oh,'_ comes to mind at the sight of them. There's been an argument, a huge one judging by their stances and facial expressions.

Briefly I wonder if it has anything to do with a spaceship being stashed in Casey's spot; but then I doubt it. The looks on their faces seem to be more intense; easily bigger than a spaceship being stashed in my daughter's very own "fortress of solitude" so to speak.

"What's going on?" I ask my family; and I make a conscious effort to look my wife in the eyes as I ask the question.

No one answers; and via my peripheral vision, I see Lois begin to move toward Kara. No doubt she wants to have a word or two with the woman who broke her son's arm. That one's out of my hands; and even if it wasn't, my hands are full. My wife and daughter are having _another… _whatever these things are called. Showdown, face off; argument isn't a strong enough word. But whatever it is, it'll have to wait.

"Chloe, I need to talk to you," I tell my wife while gesturing toward the house, which is above us and to my rear, indicating that we need to talk alone.

She looks back at Casey, then glances toward Kara and Lois, who seem to be getting along a lot better than I expect them to. In fact, Kara's apologizing to Lois, telling her that she truly thought her son was Kal-El and that she didn't mean him any harm. Lois doesn't say she understands; but she doesn't pick up any kryptonite to throw at her either. That's practically a hug for Lois.

I take my wife's hand in mine, and we climb out of the cellar; but not without sending a meaningful look Casey's way first. Now is not the best time to fight with her mother, not with her sister missing and possibly in a Kryptonian terrorist's possession. She should know better than that. So in response, Casey bows her head in what I'll take as shame, guilt, and/or understanding.

The walk to the house is extremely quick; partly because I don't want it to end. I'm so sure that when Chloe learns the truth about me, and what I've done, she won't want me to be near her, let alone to touch her, ever again. So, I want this to last.

I nearly stop in the living room; but I want more time with my wife; even if it is just a few seconds more; so I pull her toward the stairs; toward our bedroom. We still got here too fast for my taste. I sigh a little and lead her toward the bed; but she shakes her head. She doesn't want to sit down.

I look her in the eyes as I put both arms on her shoulders. She shakes her head again; probably because she thinks I'm going to try and make her sit down. I'm not. I just want to kiss her; and I do. I kiss her everywhere; her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead; who knows when she'll forgive me and let me kiss her again.

"I love you," I whisper when she begins to shake. I'm scaring her; I know it; so I pull her into a hug trying my best to offer some comfort before I give her the news that'll make her hate me.

"I love you too," she responds quietly; and I smile, memorizing her voice as she said it; because I know I'm not going to hear it for a long time.

I remove my arms from around her after a few more seconds and walk toward our dresser. It's time; I can't hold this off any longer. I rummage around in my drawer briefly before finding it; a lead box. I pull it out and turn toward my wife. She watches me warily. She knows what's in the box.

"What's going on, Clark," she whispers once I'm standing before her again.

"You'll want it," is all I say as I hold the box out for her to take.

She takes the box from me with a frown; then she stares down at it for a good little while.

"What have you done?" she asks.

She's come to the right conclusion; that the kryptonite inside is not for her protection; it's for her to use against me; to hurt me the way I've hurt her. I deserve nothing less.

"I made a deal with the devil," I tell her simply.

I watch her fingers tighten on the box before she opens it; and I see the way her face hardens as waves of anger wash over her beautiful features; and I can feel the effects of the kryptonite immediately; but it's not very strong. She has to take it out; hit me with it; probably repeatedly. I know she wants to.

But she doesn't. She sighs deeply; and I can literally see the anger draining from her face before she closes the box. She puts it down on the bed; right next to a bunch of notebooks. It looks as if there's a dozen or so there; and I watch her fingers caress the one closest to her.

"Tell me everything," she whispers.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **Okay, so I know I said I was gonna do a Casey chapter next; but I kinda felt that there hasn't been much "Chlark" in this story; and I also felt like this was the time they would need each other the most and that it would be important if I showed it.

Also, the next chapter isn't exactly a chapter per se. It's more of a companion piece to this one so that's why I posted them on the same day. I thought it would've been mighty rude to make you wait a few weeks to read another chapter when it's basically the same as this one; and since I'm not that rude…here you go! And you don't have to review both chapters if you don't want to. I'll more than understand;)


	13. Chapter 13

"Mommy!"

I jump out of my bed quickly. None of my children ever call me Mommy anymore. They're all too "grown up" for it, their words not mine. Except for my Moira; she calls me Mama still.

Noley. Noley calls me Mommy sometimes; especially when she's excited or running low on patience with me; but Noley's supposed to be in school.

That doesn't stop me from seeing her when I look up though. She's standing in front of me.

I blink a few times just to make sure I'm seeing what I'm seeing.

She's still here. But_ why_ is she here? What time is it? Did I forget to pick her up from school? I don't think I did. It can't be that late. It's _not _that late.

"Noley! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in"-

"School, Mom. I know; but look who I found!" She interrupts with so much excitement that I can't help but to be reminded of my nightmare.

"_I'm sorry Mama; but look who I found!" _

That's what my daughter, my Moira, said to me in my nightmare the night before last. Then she turned around, and beckoned for the person to come inside, into my house.

Then I saw Lana, my deceased friend, who was no longer my friend. She was Lex Luthor, Zod. She took my child away from me.

It was just a dream, my husband told me. Lana's gone, he told me. But then today Moira told me Lana's her friend; just like she always did in my nightmares, and then she left. I haven't heard from her since. I don't know where she is. I don't know if she's okay. I don't even know if she's still…God, I don't want to think about that.

I watch Noley turn slightly, as if she's about to beckon someone into my bedroom; just as Moira did in my dream; just a few seconds before she was taken away.

"No!" I scream before grabbing my daughter and pulling her to me. Nobody's going to take my baby. I've already lost one. No! I haven't lost her. I'll get her back. I'll see her again. I will.

"Mom?"

I know she wants me to let her go. They always, Moira always, wanted me to let her go.

I can't.

So I don't. I hold on tighter, even as she struggles against me. I should've held on tighter to Moira. I should've grabbed her the very _second _she told me "Lana" needed her help. I should've called for Jonathan the very second she told me she had to go. I shouldn't have let her go. And I should've told her how much I loved her every day. I should've told her everything; if I had, she would've never gotten it into her head that I wasn't her mother; that I was tolerating her for her father's sake. She would've known that she's my baby.

"_Mommy_! I want you to meet somebody. Can you just let go for a few seconds and I'll bring her upstairs?"

I glance at my bedroom door, knowing that if "Lana" truly is here there's no way I could lock her out; but there's still a part of me that wants to try. There's still a part of me that wants to shut my door, lock it, and push my very old, but very heavy, oak dresser in front of it.

There's a woman there; standing in my bedroom doorway, but she's not Lana. I've never seen this woman before in my life. I should be relieved; but I'm not. Far from it. In my nightmares, Lana came to me, and she took my seven year old away. In reality, Lana didn't come to me; but she still managed to take my daughter from me. Maybe this woman didn't come into my home and take Moira away the way Maybe she's come here to take Noley. She just turned eight; about the age Moira was in my nightmare every time she'd been taken away from me. God, I don't even think my thoughts are rational at this point; but I'm beyond caring. These are _my _daughters, my children, my babies, my family, my life.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I ask the woman with a steadier voice than I expect myself to have right now.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you Mom! This is Kara," my daughter tells me. She's pointing behind herself, but she's not pointing at the woman. She's off by about half a foot and it's because she can't see the woman. I've got her face pressed against my chest and I don't plan on letting go any time soon. It's not like I can smother her.

"Casey told me to bring her home so she can wait for Dad," Noley continues, unfazed by the fact that she can't actually see the woman. "She's my cousin! Well, her dad's name is _Zor-El_. He's Jor-El's brother, so that means we're cousin's right mom?"

I don't answer my daughter's question. I barely _hear_ my daughter's question. I'm stuck on the "Jor-El's brother" part. That means this woman is Kryptonian, like Clark; but like Zod as well, and I don't know who she's _more_ like. I'm leaning toward her being more like Zod. I'm sure she wasn't raised by humans the way Clark was, and I'm sure that whoever raised her on Krypton had a different mindset than Martha and Jonathan Kent.

The woman takes a step toward me and raises her hand. I watch her do so warily. I don't know what she's going to do next. Then she speaks.

"How do you know this woman?"

I frown at her. What woman? What is she talking about? But then I see her eyes dip to her hands, and I follow suit. She's holding a picture, a framed picture. A picture of my daughter, Moira. It was taken just a few weeks ago during Noley's eighth birthday party.

"Why do you ask?" I ask while simultaneously holding my breath and trying to keep from fainting. What the hell is going on now! Moira's already gone! What the hell does she want with my daughter too?

"Can you tell me where to find her?" the woman asks while pushing the photo out further for me to see. As if I need to take a better look at the photo to see if I'll remember something about the woman in the picture; about my baby. As if I would tell her where she was if I knew.

I snatch the picture away from her; Kara, as my daughter introduced her.

"What do you want with her?" I demand angrily.

"Do you know where she is?" Kara counters immediately.

I should be afraid of her. The last Kryptonian to make a house call asked for Clark, and when I wouldn't give him up I was nearly strangled to death. I should keep my guard up, but I'm not afraid of her. She seems more…lost, confused, and slightly hopeful, than bent on world domination.

Noley turns a little in my arms. I let her; but I don't let her go. Not yet. Not until I'm a hundred percent sure this Kara's somewhat tamed.

"That's my sister. Casey said she's playing hide and go seek, remember Kara?"

'_Playing hide and seek?' _Is that what Casey really thinks? That this is some sort of game? Even after I tried to explain to her that it's not? And when did Casey meet Kara and Noley. I thought Casey was still in this house. Her father told her to stay in the house and watch over me. She may rebel against me; but she's never been one to disobey her father. Never.

And where is Casey now?

I look up at Kara and the expression on her face makes me clamp a hand to Noley's mouth as well as take a few steps backward. She doesn't look particularly menacing; but she _is_ scowling at my eight year old child. I don't want a stranger, let alone a Kryptonian stranger, scowling at my child.

"Your sister? That's impossible," Kara says.

I'm about to ask her what she means by that; I mean, why would she think it would be impossible for Moira to be Noley's sister?

"Well who do ya think she is?" my daughter asks; and the way she asked, the tone she used, I can tell she rolled her eyes at the woman.

I take another step backward, bringing my daughter with me. She shouldn't be talking to this woman like this; like she's having a meaningless argument with Casey or something. This woman may not be used to it. She my take offense. She may feel like she needs to put my daughter in her place.

"That is Mor-El, of the house of El. She is the elder sister of Jor-El and Zor-El," Kara says as if everyone in the universe should know that bit of information. But they don't. I don't, didn't, even know it. Just as I didn't know that Jor-el had siblings.

Did Clark know it? If he did, why didn't he tell me?

Suddenly, and I mean suddenly as in _completely _out of nowhere, I remember a piece of my recurring nightmare. The part where Lana/Lex/Zod says, "Your husband made a deal with the devil. I've come to collect."

Whenever I ask Clark, he always tells me that he made a deal with Jor-El. Did he? Did he really?

"Clark!" I yell for him. I've called for him a dozen times before, when my daughter first went missing; but he didn't answer. I hope he answers this time. I need him. I need answers. I need the truth.

He's in front of me just seconds later; but he doesn't look at me. His eyes are drawn to our daughter. He's probably wondering why she isn't in school; just as I had been when she first arrived. But he doesn't get a chance to ask. Noley starts talking; and she starts talking fast.

"Daddy! I've been calling you for _forever_! But you came this time! I knew you would! This is Kara, Dad! She's looking for _Kal-El_."

I watch Clark closely. He turns to look at Kara; but he doesn't say anything to her. I watch the way he watches her, trying to see if there's any flicker of recognition there; but I don't see anything. Nothing at all. It almost seems as if he's keeping his face masked on purpose. Or I'm completely paranoid.

"Casey said to bring her here while she takes Mikey to the hospital because Kara broke his arm; but she did it by _accident _because she didn't know he's human. She thought he was Kal-El because Mikey keeps saying his name is Kal-El. She thinks Kale-El is still a little boy. Right Kara?" Noley continues.

"Oh! And her dad's name is Zor-El! He's _Jor-El's_ _brother_. Did you know that? Did you know that Jor-El had a brother? Huh? That means Kara's our cousin right? Oh, and Jor-El had a sister too! Her name's Mor-El! Did you know _that_? Kara says"-

"Noel," Clark interrupts. It evokes an immediate apology from my daughter; and it causes me to stare at him even harder. He _never _calls her that. He's _never _called her that. Not even the day she was born. He _introduced_ her as his little Noley Noles.

I stare at him as he stares at our daughter, my eyes letting him know that I need to know what he knows, _whatever_ he knows. But he doesn't look up at me. He doesn't even glance my way.

"Are you Kal-El?" Kara asks.

My husband doesn't answer immediately. He picks Noley up then turns to face Kara, giving her more attention than he's given me over the past few minutes. He looks her straight in the eyes and tells her that he is indeed Kal-El.

"But you can't be Kal-El. He's a sweet, chubby baby who laughed when you tickled his feet," Kara counters immediately.

I watch my husband frown at her. He doesn't seem to view her as a threat. He seems more curious of her than anything else.

"You knew me on Krypton?" he asks her.

"Yeah. I used to watch over you. I don't understand. I mean, I left the planet right after you. We were on the same trajectory," she explains.

"Mom!"

I don't give my son my attention immediately. I'm too busy staring at my husband, wishing he'd look back at me. At this point, I'll take a small glance from him.

"Oh, hey dad, Noley; and uh…you," Andrew says instead of bringing me whatever news he had for me. He wasn't expecting anyone else to be here.

"Her name's Kara, Droopy."

"Noley! How many times have I told you not to call me Droopy?"

Giving up on my husband, I turn my head a little to give my son the attention he asked for. His eyes are wide, and his eyebrows are raised. He's embarrassed.

"Uh…you _never_ told me not to call you Droopy, Droopy."

She did it on purpose. She always does it on purpose. She only calls him that when there's company…female company. They think it's cute. Noley likes being called cute.

My husband makes a movement; but it's not sudden. It's actually so slow that I don't realize what he's doing immediately; though it's quite obvious.

He's handing our daughter to me…instead of putting her down on the floor. We both know Noley's grown out of being held. She's been "too old" for it since the day she turned four. But I take her; and she lets me.

I adjust her to me quickly before looking back up at my husband; but he's no longer here, and he's taken Kara with him.

"Mom?" Andrew starts tentatively.

I blink when my daughter wipes my face with the palm of her hand.

"Don't cry Mom," she tells me while wrapping her arms around my neck.

'I'm not crying,' is what I want to tell her; but I can't. Not only would it a complete waste of breath; but I get interrupted.

"God, I'm so glad I decided to come!" Lois says while appearing out of nowhere, running up to me, and pulling both me and Noley into a fierce hug. I expect myself to push her away; but I don't. I pull her in immediately, and I hold her tight. I need this. Contact. Communication. Clark gave me none of that while he was here. He wouldn't even look at me, let alone comfort me, give me hope, or give me any reason to believe that my daughter is okay.

I needed him to tell me everything's gonna be okay. Even if he doesn't believe it himself.

I needed him to tell me the truth; _whatever_ it is; not hide it from me for my protection. I need to know what's going on.

"Uh, Mom. Auntie Lois. You'll never believe what I found. Okay I'm guessing you will because of the blonde chick; but you gotta see it. I put it in the storm cellar for now," Andrew rushes. He doesn't even give anyone here enough time to process what he just said before he's turning around and trying to lead the way to the storm cellar. It must be something important.

Noley scrambles down off of me and follows her brother.

"She's not the blonde chick anymore, Andrew. Her name's _Kara_."

"Oh, so now I'm Andrew? As soon as the blonde chick"-

"Kara!"

"_Kara_, leaves you don't feel like calling me Droopy anymore."

"I'm not in the mood to call you Droopy right now, that's all…"

Lois and I follow behind them, and listen to them argue about silly nothings. I could be upset about that right now. They look as if they're having too much fun when there's work to be done; important, vital, work like finding their sister. But they're not having fun. At least Andrew isn't. I know my son. He's trying to keep Noley from worrying; and I can tell by the way he keeps glancing back at me that _he's_ still worried; worried about me, about his sister, and about what his father's up to with Kara.

Once we've arrived, Andrew opens the door to the cellar and points inside. "Look," is all he says. But I don't have to look. I already know what's done there because of Noley. She yells, "You found Kara's spaceship!" before I even get the time to dredge up any fear or curiosity over what could possibly be in the cellar.

The first thing I notice when I climb down into the cellar is the smell; or rather the lack of smell. The storm cellar should be musky; not only musky, it should be dirty, damp ,and dusty as hell. It hardly ever gets any ventilation because we hardly ever use it. I haven't had to hide from a tornado in years; not that they don't still happen, it's just that I've got children and a husband who can outrun them; and the same children and husband can take me with them when they go.

But the cellar is clean; neat and tidy. It even smells _good_ down here. Really good, in fact, the smell is extremely familiar. Andrew must've freshened up before he stashed the spaceship down here. That was very thoughtful of him; but it was also pointless and a waste of time. Granted, it shouldn't have taken more than a few seconds for him; but those few seconds could've been used to find his sister.

"It looks like it's been under water for a long time, Mom. Do you see all the algae?"

I do; and it _does_ look as though it's been under water for a long time. I briefly wonder why it would suddenly emerge now before remembering Reeves Dam. It broke. Not by itself. My children broke it. I can feel myself begin to tear up. Jonathan and Moira never fought; not even as small children. They had to have been hitting each other pretty hard in order to break the dam. I've just realized that.

"It belongs to a Kryptonian, that's for sure. See the symbols?" Andrew continues.

"Duh, Andrew! It's Kara's spaceship!"

"But the ship was under the water for a _very _long time," Andrew answers. "I think it belongs to an old Kryptonian. Someone probably even _older_ than dad."

"Kara! She's old. She just doesn't look it because she was in suspended animation; and _that _means her ship didn't let her age," Noley replies knowingly. And I truly have no doubt that she knows what she's talking about. At least, I'm sure Kara was the one to tell her that.

"What are you guys doing down here?"

I look up at the sound of my daughter's voice. Casey. She sounds angry. I don't know why she would be _this _time.

"Sorry Case, I didn't know where else to put this," Andrew says while gesturing toward the ship.

I can't make out Casey's face too clearly; but judging by her posture I'd say she just narrowed her eyes at the ship before shrugging. She comes down into the cellar quickly, walks past me, and approaches Lois.

They greet each other and begin to talk; but I don't listen. I'm too busy thinking. That familiar scent I caught when I first climbed down here, it's Casey. Well, her perfume or body spray or shampoo. I just caught a stronger, more concentrated, whiff of it when she walked by just now. And the way Andrew just apologized to her, as if he's intruding or something; this is Casey's spot. A place she comes to when she needs to get away; and she must come here quite often.

I never knew that.

I don't seem to know anything about my children. Am I really that bad of a mother? Do I know _anything_ about them?

"Mom? Are you listening to me?"

Apparently, I don't listen to them either. I nearly smile at the irony. Nearly.

Instead, I turn and give my son the attention he's asking for.

"I'm sorry Andrew, what were you saying?"

"I'm going to go out and look for Lizzy some more, Noley's gonna come with me. Okay?" he says more than asks. He doesn't even give me enough time to consider his plans before leaving with my youngest. He's trying to keep her away from me so she won't catch on to just how bad I'm doing right now; and he knows I trust him with her. I know he'd never let anything happen to her. There are times when I think he adores her more than she admires Moira; and that's damn near unfathomable.

"Care to explain _that_ to me?"

I blink a few times before looking over my shoulder at the sound of my cousin's voice. God, I'm really out of it. I can't seem to focus on anything. And anything I _do _focus on turns into a trip down memory lane or worse; pessimistic thoughts of what's in store for my family.

I make a conscious effort to concentrate on what's been going behind me. Casey's sitting down on the floor, twirling a small stuffed animal around in her hands; and Lois is standing directly in front of her, hands on her hips.

Casey's in trouble with my cousin; and I didn't even notice. What's worse, I don't even know _why_ she's in trouble.

"It didn't hurt as much, Auntie," Casey shrugs.

"None of it?"

"No."

"No?"  
"No." Casey repeats firmly, as if it's the end of the conversation; as if her aunt will drop it because Casey wants her to.

Looks like I'm not the only person here who doesn't know anything about her family.

"And how'd you even find out anyway?" Casey asks a bit rudely in my opinion.

I watch Lois's eyebrow dip as if Casey asked her if one and two made six before she answers. "Uh, Lois Lane here kid. You know, investigative reporter for the Daily Planet. What do you mean, "_how did I even find out_," Case?"

Can't we just drop it?" Casey snaps back while simultaneously widening her eyes and nodding her head slightly at me. She's just noticed that I've been watching. It means she doesn't want me to know what's going on. She wants to keep something hidden from me.

What else is new?

"So let me get this straight;" Lois continues as if Casey didn't ask her to drop the conversation. "Getting your ass _thoroughly_ kicked by a random Martian hurt _less _than a "sprained ankle," Lois says while squatting down so slowly in front of Casey that _my _legs hurt just from knowing the amount of stamina it took to do so. I'm so lost though. I causght onto the fact that Kara and Casey fought, but what sprained ankle?

"I'm waiting." Lois supplies after a moment of Casey's silence.

"Does it even matter?" Casey sighs with a role of her eyes.

Lois grabs the stuffed animal Casey's holding, but she doesn't take it away. She just…holds it there, in place.

Casey's in more trouble than I originally thought; and I want to speak up so badly, ask what's going on, but I keep quiet. If I really want to know what's going on I _have_ to keep quiet; Casey often closes up once I get involved.

"Of course it _matters_, Case. That little _stunt_ you pulled back at the hospital nearly got you and your father killed!"

"Wait, what stunt at the hospital?" I interrupt while taking a few steps toward my family. I don't stop until I'm standing next to Lois. Upon my approach, Casey stands up and crosses her arms over her chest.

I can feel a little twinge of anger set into my jaw. And hurt; there's a little hurt there too. Why does she need to stand and cross her arms over her chest when I approach her? Why does she feel the need use such a defensive stance when I ask her a question; yet Lois practically yells at her and all she does is sit down with a stuffed animal in her hand and a guilty look on her face?

Casey is _my _daughter; not Lois's. I should be the one asking these questions; but I'm not, because I don't even know what they're talking about.

Casey sighs and gives Lois a look; one that's clearly asking her to get her out of having to answer my question.

I lose my temper. I've been doing that a lot with her over the past few days; but not like this.

I step in front of Lois, and I start yelling at her.

She backs up, because I'm walking forward, and she's still glancing over at her aunt; begging her to save her from the crazy lady.

I'm not crazy. I just need a lot more answers and a lot less attitude.

"I'm your mother!" I yell. "_I _am! Not Lois! When I ask you a question you don't need to look around at anyone else but _me_!"

"Chloe, whoa"- my cousin starts off; but I cut her off with just a look.

I don't understand her. She should be furious. She should be just as demanding as I am being. In fact she should be much, much, worse. She _is_ Lois Lane after all. How can she be so calm after learning some woman, and not just _any_ woman, a Kryptonian woman, broke her son's arm? She should be raising hell. But I don't get to tell her any of that. Casey's finally decided to speak up rather than sigh and roll her eyes at me.

"I wish Auntie Lois _was_ my mother!" she shouts back bitterly

I can't say that I didn't see that one coming. For _years _I've been mentally preparing myself for the many "I hate you's" I would receive from my teenage daughters, especially from Casey; but there's really no preparing for this; and before I can even figure out if I'm more hurt or angry by that statement, Lois responds with a gentle, "Casey, you don't mean that."

For some irrational reason, I get angry with Lois. What Casey said was way out of line. Lois should have retaliated a lot more forcefully than that; as least she would have if she thought Casey was wrong; but I can tell she's sympathizing with my daughter. Does that mean she agrees with her?

"Yes I do. She doesn't even _like_ me."

I'm supposed to say, "Of course I like you, honey. I love you." I know that; but I don't say anything. I just stare at her. Where is this coming from? Why would she say something Like that? And why now?

"Case, your mom loves you," Lois answers while giving me a look that suggests I should speak up and agree with her. But I still don't say anything. I'm extremely close to tears and I don't think my voice would work for me if I tried to use it. I've just discovered that I'm more hurt than angry. My daughter clearly hates me; my other daughter ran away from me; and my husband, I don't know what's going on with him. He won't even look at me

"I bet she doesn't even know what my favorite color is. Do you mom?" Casey continues.

"All right Case, that's enough."

"What? it's a real easy one," she retorts stubbornly.

"Casey," Lois warns.

"I bet she knows Lizzy's favorite color."

Of course I know Moira's favorite color. It's green; before I read her diaries I thought it was because she's a red head. Aren't most redheads told green compliments their hair, their skin, them? But that's not the case with my daughter. She likes the color green because she doesn't have something everybody else has. She wants so desperately to have something, anything, in common with her family; and the one thing all of my kids, except Moira, shares is eye color. She wants to have green eyes; like her family. It's a very sad reason to favorite a color; and it breaks my heart to think about how alone she felt despite having such a big family; but why doesn't Casey know that I _do_ indeed know her favorite color. I know all of my children's favorite colors. Jonathan likes blue; Andrew likes red and black, Noley likes anything bright enough to glow in the dark, neon pink, electric blue, etc. And Casey's favorite color is yellow; but not bright yellow like the sun. Pastel yellow. I remember being shocked when she told me. I would've thought she would like a bolder color; red, navy blue, even orange. But I also remember secretly smiling on the inside. My tough as nails daughter is a softy on the inside.

Subconsciously I notice Casey and Lois's postures change a little; and as a response I look around the cellar to try and spot the cause. My husband…and Kara. They're back; but for to the spaceship. I see Kara go to it immediately, she doesn't so much glance our way. She found what she came for.

My husband looks at me though. He looks me straight in the eyes before telling me that we have to talk. It's what I've wanted for hours now; but now that I have it, I'm afraid. He looks so serious. It's bad news. I don't want any more bad news. I don't know if I can _handle_ any more bad news.

He leads me out of the cellar, and I follow without so much as a backwards glance at my family. I need to concentrate on preparing myself for whatever's coming. I can't do that if I'm thinking about Casey, and how much she hates me; and how Lois seems to believe she has a reason to hate me.

The walk to the house is an extremely long one. All this anticipation is wreaking havoc on my nerves; and Clark, he's making me so nervous. He's walking so slow, a funeral march, and the way he keeps touching me, as if he's trying to console me before I get the bad news; please God, don't let it be my baby.

He keeps going until we've reached our bedroom, and he tries to sit me down. I shake my head. My body would love for me to sit down, my quaking legs especially; but I don't want to sit down.

He puts both arms on my shoulders. I shake my head again, letting him know that I don't want him to sit me down manually; that I want to remain standing.

He kisses me then, on the mouth, on the cheek, my forehead. Slowly, sadly; and I try my hardest not to start crying again. It _is _bad news; and again, I pray that he didn't find my baby; because with the way he's acting, if he _had_ found her, he didn't find a Moira with a pulse.

"I love you," he whispers while drawing me up into a hug.

"I love you too," I respond; not just automatically. I _do_ love him; and I have a feeling I'm going to need his strength and support right now.

He removes his arms from around me slowly, reluctantly even, and he walks toward our dresser. I tilt a little to the side so I can see what he's doing; but it's not really necessary. He turns back around seconds later and he has something in his hand. A lead box; one that encases green kryptonite. There are a few more boxes like that hidden around the house; just in case I ever need it; sort of the way a normal family would have guns with the safety lock on hidden around their house.

"What's going on, Clark," I whisper once he's standing before me again.

"You'll want it," he tells me while holding the box out for me to take.

I frown at his words. I'll _want_ it, rather than I'll need it. He would say that I needed this piece of kryptonite if he wanted me to protect myself from another Kryptonian.

I take the box from him; and I stare down at it as I ask him what he's done. That's why he wants me to hold the kryptonite. He's done something. Something so horrible that he believes I'll want to hurt him; and_ this _is the one of the few ways I can hurt him.

"I made a deal with the devil," he says. Just like that. I've asked him for _years_, I asked him just yesterday morning about that. He told me no; every time. He lied to me; every time.

I can feel my fingers tighten on the box; and I feel my fingers open it up. The kryptonite inside affects my husband immediately; but he doesn't back away. He just stands there; prepared for the pain I will inflict on him.

I take a deep breath; then I take a few more; willing myself to calm down. Hurting Clark won't make me feel better; and it most certainly won't get my daughter back.

I close the box with a decisive snap; and I put it down on the bed; right beside Moira's journals.

"Tell me everything," I whisper.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **So the main reason I wrote this chapter was because of **The Fallen Sky**. Like you guys are surprised;) Anyway TFS asked me why Chloe freaked out so bad when Kara arrived. I thought a few more of you might be wondering the same thing and I just knew that having the chapter written from Chloe's perspective would've answered that. Hope you're satisfied and no longer confused;)


	14. Chapter 14

` **The fallen sky: **Lol. We _kinda _think a lot. I'm waaaay less of a perv;)

You know, I'm surprised you believe the last chapter had the most heartbreaking guilt-tripped Clark that you've come across. I think Clea does a way better angsty, guilt riddled, Clark. God, she really knows how to feel sorry for the big dummy;) But thanks for the compliment. At least, I'm assuming it was a compliment.

And I'm so glad you got to see a little of Clark's thoughts on Noley. I know it seems as though he favorites Casey, and from Moira's POV, he does; but I never really meant to portray him as a father who plays favorites. It's just that I had to make sure I "stayed in character" when portraying Moira; and in Moira's eyes, Casey's her father's favorite. The same way Moira will probably be the favorite in Casey's eyes.

Ah, the stranger danger metaphor with the serial killing Santa. I honestly didn't want to be that harsh with it; but at the same time I figured that with Clark being superman he's seen a lot of gruesome things. No one ever really touches on that. And I thought it would be irresponsible of me not to mention that bit. It was my way of making his life more realistic, tangible even.

As for Andrew being observant of Chloe's emotional state when Clark wasn't at _his_ age, I'll chuck that up to him having a little Chloe inside of him already;) And plus, I don't believe Clark was as oblivious as we're made to believe. I think he just chose to ignore Chloe's feelings 'cause he couldn't return them. Just my personal opinion. Hope you enjoy this one!

**Shonnia22: ** Lol. I understand completely; and you're totally right. Five year olds can definitely melt the brain. Oh, and thank you. I'm glad you like the nicknames. I figured Noley would call her brother a baby word, but "Bubby" has been done way too many times. Droopy just sounded right to me. And yeah, Casey definitely went there. Just part of her charm I guess;)

**Dizzy78: **Lol. You totally confused me; but at the same time I got what you were saying. Thanks for the review!

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**AtlSportsCrystal: **Lol. I think you're the first person to favorite Casey as a character. Thanks!

~~{(O(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

She's asked me to tell her everything; and I will. I'll start at the beginning; with a split decision I made sixteen years ago.

But first things first. I ask her to sit down without words; by just making a simple motion with my hands. She still declines. I nod my head, understanding her need to feel invulnerable; but I wish _she_ understood that she'll _need _the support.

I take a step toward her; and as I do, I feel something soft brush my fingertips. I automatically know it's my cape. I don't have to look down at myself to realize that I'm still dressed as "Superman." Within half a second I'm not anymore. I don't feel that much like a super man right now, so I've change into simple house wear; jeans and a t-shirt. I'm Clark Kent now; a man with many flaws.

My wife blinks at me when I appear in front of her once again; but it seems to be more of a reflex due to the amount of wind I've just blown in her face. She doesn't seem to notice my change in attire. At least, she doesn't seem to care. And why should she?

I sit down next to where she's standing and I grab her hand, preparing to deliver my first sentence, though I don't actually know how to start this conversation off. I guess I've just subconsciously decided whatever comes out of my mouth first will be what I'll run with. But, she snatches her hand from mine quickly, and moves away to stand in front of me.

"Clark! I need for you to look me in the eyes, communicate with me! I don't want you to just stare down the hallway as you reminisce!"

She's not yelling at me. Not really; and she's not asking for much. Just a little respect; and she deserves to have it.

"You're right," I tell her just before placing my hands on both sides of my thighs. I expect to grab a hold of my mattress with both hands, and I do with my left hand, but my right hand encounters something different altogether. I look down and see those notebooks again. There must be about a dozen of them scattered all over the bed and I briefly wonder what they are; but I don't ask. I don't want my wife to think I'm procrastinating. It's time, way past time, to tell her. So I take a deep breath; and I open my mouth to speak, to finally tell Chloe the truth; but she interrupts me.

"They're Lizzy's journals," she says quietly. "Did you know she had them?"

"No, I didn't," I answer as I shake my head, letting her know that this is my first time hearing about them.

She picks one up and offers it to me.

I don't take it. Does she really want me to read it? Now? Doesn't she want me to tell her about what I've been hiding from her all these years? …Now?

She raises an eyebrow at me and presses the book against my chest. I've never been the type of father to read his daughters' diaries; and now I _really_ don't want to read it. The way Chloe's pressing the book against my chest, I can feel her hand there too. Maybe it's not her whole hand, maybe it's just her knuckles; but it's still her touch. Something I'm still positive I won't get a lot of once I tell her what I've done.

She raises her brows a little further and slightly cocks her head to the side. That means times up. I need to take the journal now. And while I'm wondering if it's possible for me to take the journal from her in such a way that I'll be able to brush my hand against hers without her knowing it was intentional, she starts talking again.

"She thought I wasn't her mother."

I gap at my wife for a few seconds; then down at the journal.

"Where did you read that?" I ask myself before practically snatching it out of her hands.

I sort of remember not wanting to read my daughter's journal; but right now I have a really intense urge to. And I give into that urge. Sort of. I open my daughter's journal and I leaf through it; but I don't focus on any of the words. I'm still having reservations about invading Moira's privacy. She'll be mad at me when she comes back. But at the same time, I have to find whatever page Chloe read that on. She must've misread it. Moira must've been mad at her mother for something and wrote that she _wishes_ Chloe wasn't her mother...

But then again, Moira loves her mother. I can't imagine her ever wanting another. In fact, now that I think about it, Moira _more _than loves her mother. She was always a bit…_clingy _when it came to Chloe.

"She thought you had an affair and brought her home for me to raise. She also thought she had to be a "good girl" all the time or I would stop loving her," my wife snorts disbelievingly; but it's a snort lacking in her usual snark and sarcasm. It's a sad, pathetic, little snort; more of a sniffle disguised by a sound usually reserved for jokes.

I don't know what to do. I want to take her hand in mine, tell her everything's going to be alright; but I don't; and not because I fear she'll reject me. But because everything's not going to ever be okay. Not even when we get Moira back; because our daughter believes she was "adopted." I honestly can't blame her for that one. She _is_ different from the others, both by looks and "allergies;" but Chloe won't, _doesn't_, see it that way. I'm sure she's only thinking about how much she loves Moira, and how she did her best to protect her daughter from everything she thought would be, or could be, dangerous, but that it apparently hadn't been enough. Not if her daughter feels she has _so_ little in common with her mother that she _had_ to have been adopted. And I'm sure Chloe's hurt because she never knew Moira was having doubts about her parentage.

Personally, I'm not surprised Moira kept her thoughts to herself. She was always too quiet of a child _not_ to keep things to herself. No, she _is _too quiet of a child not to keep things to herself. God, why do I keep thinking of my daughter in the past tense?

"I didn't get to carry her," Chloe whispers; and if it weren't for the fact that she's got a hand pressed to her stomach it would've taken me a while to figure out what that statement might have meant. There are so many thoughts on my mind that rational thoughts don't even seem to make much sense to me. But once I understand her meaning, my heart breaks for her. And again, I want to tell her everything's alright; but I can't. I can, however, tell her what she needs to know.

"Chloe,"-

"I want her back, Clark," she interrupts me; yet _again._ "I don't care about what you've done. I just want my baby back. We have to work together. You have to trust me," she rushes as if I've changed my mind about telling her the truth.

I haven't.

"Chloe"-

"I love you, Clark," she whispers fiercely.

I don't answer her immediately. I just stare at her at first; but when I try to answer her, when I try to tell her that I love her too, those aren't the words that come out of my mouth. I just speak one word.

"Still?"

I didn't mean to say it; but it sums up a little of what I'm feeling; and I know I've had nothing to fear when she gives me a look I know oh so well. It's the "you're an idiot" look.

"Always, Clark," she sighs in an exasperated tone before sitting down in my lap and placing a hand, her whole finger-splayed hand, over my chest. "Just talk to me. Tell me _everything_," she pleads.

I can't resist this time. I grab her hand and interlace our fingers; and she lets me. Then I take a deep breath and begin to tell her what happened.

I start with Jor-El's offer. The one I told Chloe he gave me when I was a nineteen year old young man getting ready to battle a Kryptonian terrorist twice my age as well as a Kryptonian AI that was a hundred times my smarts.

I tell her that I wasn't going to win.

I knew it. Jor-El knew it. And of course the computer and terrorist knew it.

Jor-El wasted no time. As soon as I set foot back into the fortress with my two opponents, Jor-El sent us all away. I didn't get any kind of heads up.

Chloe wrinkles her eyebrows at me; but she keeps her mouth shut. I know it's killing her to do so. I lied to her about the phantom zone. I told her that Jor-El asked me to go; that it was my choice to go. I can see that she wants to call me out on it; question my motives behind lying about such a thing; but she wants to know what's going on even more. She's not going to interrupt me to save her own life.

So I continue on as if I hadn't noticed the way she's looking at me; and I tell her how I was surrounded by phantoms. I don't tell her what they looked like. Well, I give her a general idea; black cloaks and the ability to fly; but she doesn't really need to know how scaly, and scabby their hands, if those were hands, were. She doesn't need to know how sharp, and ragged, and decayed, their teeth were. She doesn't need to know that they were the very epitome of death; and she doesn't need to know about how bad they hurt me; about how I almost died. She'll feel sorry for me; and I don't need the sympathy. We have to stay focused on the task at hand; finding our daughter. So, I sugar coat my encounter. I tell her that I was attacked by phantoms; and when I awoke I was in a makeshift home.

"What do you mean by that?" Chloe stops me right there.

I should've known it would happen. I was being a little _too _vague.

"What do I mean by what?" I ask her. I don't know which part she wants me to re-explain but with the proper dosage of details this time. Hopefully she doesn't want me to start back at the very beginning.

"When you awoke?"

"I"-

"What did you mean by, "When I awoke?" Did you fall asleep right after Jor-El sent you to a prison full of the galaxy's deadliest aliens?" she asks in pure condescending disbelief.

"Well"-

"And where were Zod and Brainiac when you allegedly "awoke?""

I sigh. That's what happens when I take short cuts with my wife. I have to backtrack all the way to the beginning; tell her I nearly died; watch the horrified expressions appear on her face; and get yelled at for trying to protect her when I'm _supposed _to be telling her the truth no matter what it is.

"So, when you awoke you were in some kind of hut?" she prompts firmly once she's done chewing me out.

I nod my head and take another deep breath. I'm getting closer to telling her the part I don't want to tell her.

"What happened after that?" she rushes me.

I haven't even stalled for a full three seconds. It's as if she's trying to make me talk quickly; before I can think up another lie/ half-truth. I'm not so good at those.

"There was a woman there with me," I start off.

"A woman? In the phantom zone?" she questions.

That was a mistake. She wasn't a woman. She was a phantom. I don't know why I said that.

And now I'm lying to myself.

I know exactly why I said that. She, the phantom, was more human than a visible shell of what she used to be. She was absolutely nothing like the others. I can't exactly say she was kind and sweet; but I _can_ say she didn't try to kill me; and I _can_ say she helped me survive; and I _can_ say she's the reason I was able to return to earth.

"Clark? The _woman _in the phantom zone?" Chloe questions while simultaneously squeezing my chest to get my attention. "You were gone for a long time, and you probably thought you would never be able to come home. It's okay if you had an affair, Clark."

"What? No! Never! Chloe, how could you think of something like that? I never"-

"I know," she winces.

I look down at my hands. They're on her waist. I'm hurting her. I let go immediately and let my hands fall to the bed.

"I know you didn't have an affair," she tells me; and I realize the affair accusation was an attempt at humor. It's a coping method of hers. "So, who was she?" she asks after a deep breath. She's ready for the answer now.

And the answer is, I honestly don't know who the phantom was. I don't know where she's from; what planet, what galaxy. I don't know what crime she committed in order to be sent away. Other than the fact that she helped me, I didn't learn anything about her. Just her name; which was an odd one for an alien. I always thought it was a human name but I didn't question it. I had other things on my mind. Things like surviving and finding a way home to my wife and unborn children.

"Her name was Morgan," I say out loud. I'm about to tell Chloe a whole lot more, but she stops me with a loud gasp and clamps both her hands over her mouth with a very loud smack.

Something's very wrong.

"Chloe, what is it? What's wrong?"

She doesn't answer me and she's not going to. Her eyes have gone wide; but all that tells me is…nothing. It tells me absolutely nothing other than the fact that she knows something important and is putting a few things together in her head.

I need to know what that important something is too.

I grab her shoulders, gently but firmly, and I give her a small shake until she blinks and focuses her eyes on me.

"Chloe, what is it?" I repeat desperately.

"Morgan," she whispers.

I give her a blank look. I need more than that.

"Lizzy knows Morgan."

I don't have an answer for that. My first thought was that it was impossible; but it's not. It's not impossible at all. In fact, I should have expected that.

"She's known her since she was seven. Look at this," my wife commands while shoving a different, much older looking, journal into my hands. I didn't even realize she was no longer in my lap until I reached out to take the notebook from her hands.

I look back down at the journal silently. I don't open it. I don't want to read about Morgan befriending my child. I want to pretend that Morgan is a girl my daughter's age; Maybe her secret best friend; hell, maybe even an imaginary friend. Morgan is a human name, a _common _human name, after all. It's plausible Morgan's a human child/person; but considering what's been going on for the last two days, I'm sure it's no coincidence. So I open the journal. At the top of the first page is the date. 2016 is the year, making this journal about seven years old and my daughter nine years old when she first wrote in it. I begin to read about my daughter having a secret she can't share with anyone; about how it was Morgan's idea for Moira to keep her secrets, and as I read, an idea comes to me, a seemingly random idea.

I keep reading; quickly getting more familiar with Morgan via my daughters words until I become more and more sure about the epiphany I just had seconds ago.

"Clark?"

I look up at Chloe; both of her hands are pressed against my shoulders and she's frowning down at me.

"You don't look so surprised," she whispers.

I am surprised. I'm just not _surprised. _I think I understand what's going on now. The things Moira wrote about Morgan, the way she worded certain commands and requests Morgan asked of her, they're oddly familiar. More subtle, but definitely familiar; definitely a lot like Jor-El.

Morgan and Mor-El are the same person. They have to be. Morgan knew so much about the house of El. I never thought anything of it because every phantom stuck in the phantom zone was bound to know more about the house of El than I did at the time. I grew up on earth, with human parents. _I _was the alien there in the phantom zone. But if I would've spared her a few thoughts over the years, I would've noticed that she knew a lot more about the house of El than even I knew after my training had finally been complete. I would've realized she had a much more rational mind than the other phantoms, that she knew how the phantom zone worked. I would've questioned how she knew Jor-El discovered the plane, and how she knew how to escape.

Only the house of El knew how to escape.

"Clark?"

Right. I should think out loud for my wife to hear.

I give her the cliff notes version. I tell her that Morgan helped me survive until I was able to escape. Of course, I have to tell her that _I _didn't find a way out. Morgan knew how to get out.

"If Morgan knew how to escape, why was she in the phantom zone? Why didn't she just leave as soon as she got there?" Chloe interrupts.

She has a good point. In fact, those were my exact thoughts when Morgan first told me there was a way out. But then she told me she'd get me out, for a price; and for some odd reason that helped convince me that there _was _a way out. A phantom with a hidden agenda sounded more likely than one who would help me out of the kindness of heart. I was ready to at least hear her out, and when I heard what she wanted, I declined. I had very high morals and values. I wasn't going to trade them for selfish reasons.

"She couldn't leave on her own," I explain to my wife. "She needed blood from a member of the house of El, and even though she was a member of the house of El, she was a phantom so she didn't_ have_ any blood. She needed me to"-

"Wait! What do you mean by, "she was a member of the house of El?"

I blink at her a couple of times before realizing I never told her that I believe Morgan and Mor-El are one and the same.

"I think Morgan and More-El are the same person," I answer apologetically. I didn't mean to leave out that detail; but I'm sure it won't look that way. Even if Chloe believes I didn't hide that on purpose, she'll still believe I did it subconsciously.

"How can that be possible?" she gasps.

I don't know how to answer her without making her feel like I'm being condescending or patronizing her; but I also don't understand why she wouldn't think it's possible. Morgan's an alien phantom, Mor-El's my alien aunt that I've never heard of. Why couldn't they be one and the same?

"Isn't the phantom zone for criminals? What did she do so bad that her own brother had to send her there?"

So bad? I hadn't thought about that. In fact, she had no features. Only the more dangerous phantoms were stripped of their corporeal forms before having their spirits cast into the Phantom Zone. Morgan, Mor-El, couldn't have been _that_ dangerous. God, I hope she couldn't have been that dangerous…because I released her.

It was what she wanted in exchange for my freedom. Her freedom as well. I only had slight reservations about giving her _her _freedom. Questions concerning her true intentions came to mind. I mean, she wasn't in The Phantom Zone for absolutely _no_ reason right? What if I set her free and she wanted the same thing as Zod? I honestly didn't believe she did; but then again my trust in others was one of my strongest weaknesses. I couldn't risk everyone I loved just because _I_ wanted to go home. And to be completely honest, I still almost did it; but it was the _cost_ of her freedom that convinced me to stay put.

She wanted a body.

She needed human flesh and blood because she no longer had a physical form. I was glad she was honest with me before I consented; but there was a small part of me that resented her for that. She could've tricked me. She could have chosen not to tell me what I'd be getting myself into. I would've set her free and I wouldn't have known that I'd been directly responsible for a human life until _after_ it had been taken. Sure, I would've felt guilty; berated myself for not knowing any better, told myself over and over again that I _should've _known better; but it wouldn't have really had been my fault. Not really; and I would've known that as well.

But she _was _honest with me. If I agreed to let her help me escape, I would be agreeing to the death of someone else. My answer was no; a firm no. I could never go home.

After a while, I began to lose myself. Almost Literally. I started to forget things; not a lot of things. I still remembered where I grew up and who my parents were. I still remembered everything. I just started to forget _days_. I couldn't remember my yesterday, then my day before yesterday; then my day before that. It was almost as if my life was being erased one day at a time, starting with the most recent day I'd lived and going back until my very beginning…until I didn't remember who I was anymore.

I fought it. I fought it hard. I held on to memories as tight as I could, replaying them in my head over and over again so that I wouldn't forget.

I still forgot.

I panicked. Was I going to become a phantom? Would I become nothing more than a roaming, restless, spirit who had nothing to live for but a vengeful need to punish the person who sent me there?

I tried to tell myself that it wasn't true. That's not how phantoms were made; that's not why every phantom hated Jor-El. They were criminals before they were sentenced to The Zone.

But that rationalization didn't help me at all. I was still forgetting. I was going to forget everything. I was going to _lose_ everything; my parents, my friends, my wife; though at that time I'd already forgotten Chloe and I had been married. My most recent memory of Chloe had been the moment I told her about Maddie and the broken glass incident. She accused Maddie of being dangerous. I refused to believe she was and I reprimanded Chloe a bit harshly for thinking that way. Then I asked her how Lana was doing; but not just for Lana's sake; my sake as well. I was feeling guilty about a few things; thoughts, to be more specific, that I'd been having about her, my friend, Chloe. I don't even know how it happened. She came over the night before to cheer me up after _another _break up with Lana.

She sat next to me on my ratty old "loft couch" and we talked about everything except Lana. Not because I didn't want to talk about Lana; but because Chloe chose all of our topics. She jumped around so much that I could barely keep up with her. It was her way of distracting me from thinking about Lana. But I wasn't really thinking about Lana. Not really. I was trying to tell her something. I was leaving Smallville. I wanted to travel, see the world; experience something new so that I didn't have to face something old. Something like my on and off relationship with the girl I fell in love with before I'd lost my two front teeth. I guess in a way, it _was_ about Lana… until I got an idea.

I wanted Chloe to come with me. I could see us together, exploring, discovering, experiencing; just together. I liked being around Chloe. She made me feel normal, special, and utterly ridiculous, all at the same time. She made me feel _human_.

When she finally stopped talking, I started talking. I told her I was leaving. I didn't look at her when I told her. I looked straight ahead.

No response.

I didn't expect one. I knew she wouldn't want me to go. I knew she wouldn't encourage me to leave her. I knew she would sit in stunned silence until she figured there was no way she could stop me and then offer up a small goodbye; an "I'll miss you but you gotta do what you gotta do" sort of goodbye.

Then I asked her to come with me.

No response.

And I still wasn't expecting there to be one. I was asking her to leave everything behind and follow me.

She didn't give me an outright, "I can't;" which meant she was thinking about it. Which meant she wanted to go; she wanted to be with me. At least I hoped that was what her silence meant.

I was still staring ahead of myself when I grabbed her hand and told her it would be fun. We'd visit Hawaii, Paris; the Bahamas. I stopped myself when I realized I'd listed a lot of honeymoon spots and I told her that anytime she got homesick I could bring her back to Smallville to visit.

Still no response.

I got a little annoyed and finally faced her.

She was asleep; probably had been since the moment she stopped talking.

I shook my head and smiled at her before lifting her up in my arms. I could've awakened her; but I owed her the rest. I'd been working her too hard if she could fall asleep mid-sentence. I could've taken her home; but she didn't live alone. She shared a dorm room with Lana. I wasn't particularly in the mood to face Lana. Plus it was three o'clock in the morning. It would've been rude of me to wake Lana up. So I put Chloe in my bed.

I took her jeans off without even thinking about it. She told me a long time ago that she didn't like sleeping in pants. I was just helping her out…until I noticed that I'd just taken my best friend's pants off. I had them in my hands. They weren't on her.

I'd made a mistake. I should've taken her home, because just then I begin to have a few lustful thoughts the way any nineteen year old male would have if he'd just taken a girl's pants off, exposing bare thighs and red-laced panties.

I wanted her.

Luckily for me, it didn't take very long for me to become ashamed of what I was doing; fantasizing about my sleeping friend. I shook my head, averted my eyes, took off her shirt because it was a very short one and gave her one of mine. It still wasn't very long, but at least it covered her panties.

Then I went to sleep. Or tried to. Since Chloe fell asleep while I was asking her if she'd travel the world with me, it meant I would have to ask her again; when she was _definitely_ awake. It never occurred to me to back out, forget I ever asked in the first place. I was too busy thinking up every argument she'd come up with, and finding a good enough rebuttal.

It was an hour later that I asked myself why it was so important that she goes with me. In my head, it was her question to me; and I needed to come up with an answer just in case she actually asked me that.

But I couldn't come up with an answer she'd accept. I couldn't just tell her that I wanted her with me because I couldn't go anywhere for months at a time without her. She would've needed more than that. So I asked myself _why _I couldn't go anywhere without her for months at a time. It's not like I couldn't just zip back to Smallville in a flash and visit whenever I wanted to see her; but that would defeat the purpose of leaving. Like I said, I couldn't go _months _without seeing Chloe. I probably would have ended up going back every other day just to see her. I was trying to _escape _Smallville; common sense told me that if I brought Chloe with me I could do just that.

That was the answer I came up with anyway; and I was satisfied with it until Chloe's voice got inside my head again. I imagined her raising her eyebrows as she laughed at me. Then she asked me what I would do when she got married. I wouldn't be able to see her whenever I wanted if he got married to some other guy. Her new husband probably wouldn't like that.

So I gave up on sleep. I went outside at four thirty in the morning and I started doing some chores. The thought of Chloe getting married to another man; and not being available to me mad me angry at first. Then I realized I wasn't just angry; I was jealous. Jealous! Of an imaginary guy marrying my best friend.

I had her first.

I wanted her for myself.

I wanted my best friend.

I wanted her by my side; always; forever.

I loved her.

Yeah, that was the exact moment I realized I was in love with my best friend.

_I _wanted to marry her.

I chuckled to myself at the idea. I couldn't just propose to Chloe out of the blue because I decided it only made sense for us to make it official. Her answer would've been no and she would've thought I was just joking.

We had to start dating first.

I started toward the house.

I was on my way to bed.

I had a huge grin on my face.

I'd had a major breakthrough and a game plan.

I was going to ask Chloe out on a date; a real date with formal attire, roses, a restaurant, and a goodnight kiss. I couldn't wait for the kiss. I couldn't wait to see the look on her face. Just the thought of proving to her that I was no longer seeing her as a mere friend excited me.

I almost made it inside when Chloe's voice came to me once more.

"What about Lana?" I imagined her asking me.

Lana.

I'd just broken up with Lana.

Lana was not only Chloe's roommate, but her best friend as well.

It wasn't the best time for me and Chloe to start dating.

The thought made me panic. When would the best time be? What if there was _never _a best time? And what was I supposed to do if Chloe found a boyfriend while I was waiting for the best time?

I was torn between trying not to hurt Lana, _again_; and reaching for my own happiness.

So I didn't sleep at all. And I wasn't in the best of moods when Lois arrived a few hours later. She just opened the front door, walked up to me, and said, "Chloe?"

I said, "My room." And that was it. I stayed downstairs and eaves dropped on the conversation upstairs. I learned that Chloe was supposed to meet Lana for breakfast at the diner across the street from the school; and when Chloe didn't answer her cell, Lana called Lois up. I thought that was a little odd. Lana and Lois didn't seem to know each other well enough to swap numbers.

Then I heard Chloe's phone ringing from my loft. I retrieved it quickly and ran it upstairs. Then I opened my bedroom door and held it out for her to take. I had to keep my eyes on her face. She didn't have any pants on. It took all the will power I possessed to keep my gaze from drifting downward toward her bare thighs.

After telling Chloe that Lana was calling she told me to put the phone on the dresser. I did so quickly and left; but not before getting an idea.

No more than two minutes later Chloe was rushing past me and out to her car. It didn't even take a fraction of a second to snatch her phone out of her hand. Even if she _wasn't_ in such a hurry she wouldn't have known I swiped her phone.

Then I left the farm in a rush as urgent as Chloe's. I didn't want to stick around and answer the many questions I knew Lois had for me. So, I ran an errand my mom asked me to do for her while she was in Topeka. I had to drop off some documents for her chief of staff, Naomi. I was supposed to do it the night before but I spent the night with Chloe instead.

When I got to Naomi's house I found a dead body surrounded by shattered glass and her nine year old foster daughter hiding under her bed. She'd been there for hours; since the night before. I should've gone over when I was supposed to. If I had maybe Naomi would still be alive today.

I called the police, as well as my mother. Then I got permission to take Maddie to the farm. I tried my best to make her feel better; but after what she'd been through I didn't expect to be able to. I did however manage to get her to smile. It literally took hours.

Then Lois showed up. Apparently my mom didn't trust me to take care of a child by myself. But I honestly don't understand why she sent Lois. Chloe would've been a much better choice.

At the thought of Chloe, I remembered my plan. I was supposed to pop up at the diner where she and Lana were having brunch. My excuse would be to give Chloe her phone.

I wanted to see how Lana was doing. If she was close to being okay, I was that much closer to being able to date Chloe. If she wasn't doing any better than when I last saw her then…I didn't know what I was going to do.

It didn't matter anyway. I couldn't do what I planned on doing; or so I thought. Lois said or did something to upset Maddie and suddenly all of the bulbs in the barn were shattered…like the glass surrounding Naomi. I would have to see Chloe after all; like I planned, but under a much more serious circumstance.

She was at the diner with Lana. It looked as if they'd just begun eating.

Lana saw me first, and I didn't feel…anything. Then Chloe turned around and spotted me, and I felt _everything_. I watched her excuse herself and come to me with a huge frown on her face. She was irritated with me. She wore the look well.

That was the moment I decided I cared about Lana still; but not enough _not _to pursue Chloe.

I couldn't lose that memory.

I agreed to Morgan's request then. I agreed to take a human life just so I could remember I loved Chloe when I returned to earth. I was selfish. And Morgan didn't make it any easier. "Even if I take the life of someone close to you," she'd asked me when I gave in. My only thought had been "just not Chloe" before I told Morgan I still agreed to her terms.

But there were _complications_. Just as I was leaving through the portal, more phantoms came. Morgan told me to go without her; that I couldn't let them into my world. They_ were_ dangerous criminals after all. But before I left, she cut me and took some of my blood.

She would be able to let herself out later.

There's no good enough excuse I can come up with for why I took Morgan's deal. Chloe won't care that I did it because I loved her. She'll be disgusted with me; which is an understatement.

"Clark? What did she do to end up in the Phantom Zone?" Chloe repeats because I haven't answered her yet.

"I killed someone," is my answer.

She stares at me while swallowing a few times. She's confused. I caught her off guard. That wasn't an answer to her question.

"I killed someone, Chloe," I repeat, giving her a little more time to process my words.

She doesn't take the time to; or at least she pretends not to anyway. With a shaky voice and a newfound stutter she lets the words, "it was self-defense," escape her lips.

God, I wish that were true. I also wish she hadn't said that. There's a small part of me that is happy she's jumped to the "it was an accident" conclusion; but because it _wasn't_ an accident, I only feel like I let her down all over again.

"So um, Morgan. If you know why she was sent to the phantom Zone, what kind of person she was, then maybe we can figure out what she would want on earth, with our daughter. We'd be that much closer to finding her…"

She's rambling, trying to keep me focused on the task at hand. Finding our daughter. She thinks I've gone off topic.

"Morgan would only tell me how to escape the Phantom Zone if I promised to bring her home with me; to earth." I interrupt.

She gets quiet.

"But she was a phantom, so she needed a human body. I agreed."

She stays quiet. She just stares at me.

"I'm sorry. I killed Lana."

I didn't know I did until today. I thought I did at first. But then I saw Lana's lifeless body with my own eyes. Morgan would need a live body.

Now I'm not so sure about what I saw. Not after Casey told me about Moira's friend named Lana this afternoon.

"Krypton's gone, Kal-el."

I whip my head towards my door. Kara's standing there. She looks like she just lost everyone she's ever loved; and she has. I assume her ship told her somehow.

I look to Chloe. She shakes her head at me.

She doesn't want to talk anymore. I watch her sit down on our bed and pick up another one of Moira's journals. She doesn't even glance my way as she opens it. She brings the book up to her face; but I still know she's crying. I have x-ray vision, and super-hearing.

I get up, kiss the top of my wife's head and tell her that I love her.

She nods her head. I'd like to think that if she wasn't crying she'd tell me that she loves me too.

I leave my bedroom and Kara follows quietly behind me. I turn to face her.

"Will you help me find my daughter?"

She blinks at me.

I'm a jerk. She just lost her _whole _family.

"Are you okay?" I ask her while placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head. She's not okay.

"How did it happen? Krypton, I mean?" She corrects as if I'd mistaken her question for concern about my daughter.

"I don't know," I answer quietly.

"I'd always heard whispers of a doomsday scenario, but I never thought anyone would actually do it. We were supposed to be the most advanced civilization in the galaxy."

"One thing I've learned is that evil exists in all cultures, no matter how advanced they are," I sigh. I should've remembered that myself. I should've taught my daughter to be more conscious about the people she befriends.

"Maybe if I had had my abilities on Krypton, I could have saved it."

If I wasn't sure of it before, I'm sure she's family now. She sounds just like me.

"You can help me save my daughter. She's your family too," I tell her.

She looks up at me, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"She is, isn't she," she answers a few moments later.

I smile at her before thanking her and telling her she can stay here on the farm for as long as she wants.

"Thank you, Kal-El."

"Clark," I correct.

"Thank you, _Clark_."

"It's nothing. You can sleep…you can sleep in my daughters' room. Lois is probably taking the couch," I tell her before taking off to look for my daughter once again.

I keep my thoughts on the next place I should search for her, that way I don't have to think about Kara sleeping in her empty bed.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **Next chapter is Casey's. I promise. Oh, and hopefully it won't take as long to write. I am really sorry this chapter took me so long, but I recently lost a friend and haven't been in the mood to write for weeks. Not that I'm fully up to it now; but I do feel better than I did before. Hopefully it doesn't show in my writing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Dizzy78: **Thank you! I'm really glad you felt you needed to go back to the beginning to refresh your memory. I was kinda afraid everyone would consider the last one a sort of filler chapter rather than enjoy the "full circle effect." So thank you for reassuring me that I made the right choice.

**The fallen sky: **Lol. I told you you're a bigger perv than me! When am I ever wrong about these kinds of things? Not that we ever really talk about these things;)

And I figured you'd like finally getting to know what happened in the Phantom Zone. I've gotta say, I was so worried about that chapter. I've known what's happened for so long now, and so when I was writing it I struggled to get it right and try to keep it from being so predictable/ boring.

You do know that I can't tell you how and why Mor-El ended up in The Zone, right?

**Anonymous: **Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

**Nakala: **Thank you so much! Just don't fall off the edge of your seat hun;)

**Shonnia22: **Thanks! Bringing everything full circle was a bit challenging; but the result was worth it. Everyone seems to like it. And I'm so glad you're liking the whole Lizzy/Morgan/Mor-El dynamic.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I don't want to; but the first place I look when I open my eyes is Lizzy's bed. I can't help it; I know she's not in it. Kara is. It's nothing new. It's been three days already, but I can't seem to get used to it. And I can't help but to get angry when I see all that blonde hair over there instead of the obnoxious red I'm used to.

I don't want Kara sleeping in Lizzy's bed. I don't even want her sleeping in my room, and I told her that to her face the first night. Not that it helped any. Noley scowled up at me and yelled, "It's just a bed, Donkey!"

Noley's not nearly as bright as she thinks she is. I know that calling me a donkey is her way of saying jackass. We're not allowed to use "bad words." None of us. It's a house rule, and it's a stupid one because I'm not a baby anymore. I'll be fourteen in a week; exactly three days after Lizzy and John turn sixteen.

But why bother telling the parents about Noley's new favorite nickname for me? First of all, I'd rather her call me _that_ than Kristen; and second, anything Noley does is cute to them because she's the youngest. I just thank God she's the last one; and if she's not, I hope the parents will at least do everyone a solid and wait until I'm eighteen to have it. That way I'll be outta Smallville and I won't have to keep my mouth shut so much; like the way I had to the first night Kara came to sleep in my room.

Instead of arguing with Noley about it the way I wanted to, I just shrugged and got into my bed without another word. I didn't feel like going through the drama that night. Best case scenario; Noley would've gotten mom, who was all broken up about the missing one so it's not like she was in the best of moods to begin with; and mom would've yelled at me for being rude and selfish. Then she'd tell me that it's just a bed, like Noley said before her.

Funny thing is,_ she _didn't feel that way before. Lizzy had to tell _her_ that once.

It was the day Noley moved into our room. She was two years old and too old to sleep in our parents' room anymore. So when Lizzy and I got home from school our parents met us at the bus stop and told us they had a surprise for us. They'd traded rooms with us. We were getting the master bedroom.

We were too young to figure out that there was something suspicious about the surprise; so, we just squealed with delight before running upstairs to see our new room…literally as fast as we could. I'm still surprised we didn't get into trouble for that. We were outside when they told us. Then we were inside in less than a second.

Somebody could've seen us disappear into thin air.

But they didn't say anything when they came upstairs.

Mom got to us first; and she had to step passed us to get into our new room because me and Lizzy were still standing in the doorway. We were a little confused. There were three beds in our new room instead of two; our old bunk bed set and a brand new single bed on the other side of the room.

Then Mom pointed at the bunk bed and said, "Casey, you're gonna sleep on the top bunk now so Noley can sleep on the bottom. Then she pointed at the single bed and before she could tell us Lizzy had the single bed, I interrupted with a, "Why does Lizzy get to have that bed? Why can't I have it?"

"Because she's the oldest," my mom cut me off before I could get another word in.

I pouted; a full on pout with my bottom lip poked out and my arms crossed over my chest. Lizzy wasn't that much older. She was ten. I was eight. And besides, she already had her own bed at Morgan's house. It wasn't fair; but I didn't mention that to my parents. I promised I wouldn't. Even though I was just a kid, I was good at keeping promises.

But I got the new bed anyway; that same night in fact.

Lizzy gave it to me right after Noley refused to sleep in her bed; the bottom bunk. She wanted to sleep "up high" where I was supposed to sleep. I didn't argue with her like I normally would have. I wasn't going to sleep up there anyway. I was going to sleep in Lizzy's bed with her. We were just gonna have to share because there was no way in hell I was gonna sleep on the bottom bunk with Noley.

But then the bottom bunk was free because of Noley taking the top. I could've slept there like I used to, I was _going _to sleep there like I used to; but that's when Lizzy told me I could have her bed.

I didn't question her. I just felt excited and special because Lizzy gave me her bed; the special bed. I was so excited I didn't even thank her. I just ran over to my new bed, jumped into it, got under the blanket, and went to sleep.

Our arrangement worked out just fine until mom checked on us during the middle of the night.

She had a fit.

She woke me up out of my sleep and yelled at me for disobeying her. Then she accused me of bullying Lizzy into giving me her bed.

I was so confused. Lizzy was older than me; even taller than me. She could run faster than me, hear better than me, see better than me; and though we'd never physically fought each other before, not even to play "wrestle;" I was more than a hundred percent positive that she was stronger than me.

How could _I _possibly _bully_ Lizzy into doing _anything_?

Then Lizzy woke up, _finally_; the girl could sleep through anything; even our brothers crashing through walls. Literally. So I wasn't surprised it took her so long to wake up. I _was_ surprised by what she said though. I was expecting her to apologize and tell our mother that it was her idea and that she'll just switch beds with me.

Instead, she gave mom a look that suggested she thought our mother was blowing things way out of proportion before saying, "It's just a bed, Mama. Why _can't_ Casey have it?"

I cringed at Lizzy's tone of voice. She was a bit snappy. She was always a bit snappy if her sleep was interrupted; but Mom didn't seem to be in the mood to deal with snappy children.

I sat up all the way, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and everything. I was ready to jump up and defend my sister when my mom started in on her for disobeying her as well. I mean, I didn't know what I was going to say or anything. I just knew I should help my sister. She was just trying to help me after all.

But, Lizzy didn't need my help. Mom didn't so much as give Lizzy a disapproving look. I watched her face soften faster than a blink of an eye before she gave Lizzy her attention.

She walked over to her and tried to talk her out of letting me have her bed. Lizzy refused to give in. Any argument Mom came up with, Lizzy shot it down; and quickly. She just kept telling Mom that she didn't want the new bed; that she liked the bottom bunk.

Mom didn't believe her. Hell, I was only eight and _I _didn't believe her. She was lying to our mother's face.

And what did our mother do? Nothing. She just kept arguing with Lizzy, trying to find better arguments. She argued so long I nearly fell asleep while sitting up.

She _really_ didn't want me to have that new bed.

Then Lizzy said, "How come it matters so much, Mama? Noley was supposed to sleep _here _but I let her sleep on the top bunk. And Casey wanted to sleep in the new bed, so I let her sleep over there;" and she said it with a shrug, emphasizing the fact that it wasn't a big deal; or at least emphasizing the fact that _she_ didn't think it was such a big deal.

Mom blinked at her, and I thought it was because Lizzy went too far; but then Mom looked up at the top bunk like it _just _occurred to her that Lizzy let her two year old daughter sleep on the top bunk.

_I_ wouldn't have even done that. I would've been too scared Noley would fall because there was no railing and she was so young. Then I'd get into trouble for not using my brains.

But Lizzy didn't get into trouble.

All Mom said was, "She could fall, baby. She's just two years old. Casey's eight and even _she _still falls out of the bed sometimes."

I couldn't help but to notice how fast my mother spewed that argument out of her mouth. It was almost as if she didn't want Lizzy to be able to get a word in until she was finished; like she didn't want to Lizzy to be able to come up with a rebuttal.

I wouldn't have been able to. What Mom said made a lot of sense to me. If _I_, an eight year old, still fell out of the bed from time to time; then of course a baby would probably fall out of the bed.

Mom still lost the argument.

Lizzy just laughed at her like she was ridiculous and giggled out an, "It won't hurt her if she falls, Mama."

Mom laughed too after thinking about it for a second; then she told Lizzy it was her responsibility to get up if Noley fell out of the bed and put her back…every single time since Noley was so young and didn't have the motor skills to climb the ladder yet.

Lizzy agreed quickly with an upbeat "okay Mama" followed by a contradicting yawn. That's when Mom decided we could go back to sleep. She pulled Lizzy's covers back and waited for Lizzy to lay down before tucking her in.

I was having an internal debate by then; stay up so Mom could either apologize to me or yell at me some more; or, lay back down and go to sleep without being dismissed. I figured she'd get mad at me if I went to sleep without her getting her final words in. I didn't want her mad at me anymore. So, I managed to stay up and keep my eyes open, though sleep was calling my first, middle, and last names with a persistent sense of urgency. My eyes drooped heavily as Lizzy reached her arms out to Mom, and I began losing my patience with my mother and sister. Why were they taking so long to say goodnight when all I wanted to do was sleep?

I tilted my head to the side just a little so that I could find out. I couldn't see them very well, but I could see well enough to watch Mom smile down at Lizzy like she was looking at the most precious thing in the world, the only _living_ thing in the world, before leaning in to kiss her goodnight.

I thought they were done then; but unfortunately for me, they weren't. They'd just started in on the "I love yous" and stuff. Finally, mom sat up and I was so relieved. They were almost done. I would be able to go to sleep finally.

Mom kissed Lizzy goodnight; then she came to me. She wasn't smiling like she was looking at the most precious thing in the world anymore. That's because she wasn't. She was just looking at me.

She told me to lie down. I did so immediately, and then she tucked me in. She even kissed my forehead and told me she loved me; but she didn't tell me goodnight and she didn't apologize for wrongfully accusing me of bullying Lizzy. Instead, she told me that I was lucky to have a big sister like Lizzy.

I nodded my head quickly before turning over to face the wall. Instinctively, I knew she had nothing else to say to me.

The lights went out and I heard the door shut behind her, but I waited until I heard her shut _her _bedroom door before I let the first tear fall.

I was crying and it was really disgusting. Since I was trying to be so quiet, I had to let my nose run because I didn't want my dad to hear my sniffles. Then he'd come in and check on me and I didn't want him to see me crying. It had nothing to do with pride. I was too young for pride at the time. The reason I didn't want him to see me crying was because he'd ask me _why _I was crying; and I didn't have a clue. Not one. I had no idea why I was crying. I just…_felt _bad; sad. There was a tightening in my chest that wouldn't go away and my throat had closed up. And I just didn't know why.

Then I felt a dip in my bed. I closed my eyes immediately. I knew it was Lizzy; and I figured she'd go away if I pretended to be asleep.

No such luck.

She kept shaking me, soundlessly, trying to get me to open my eyes without telling me to do so with her words. She did it for a long time. So long that I knew she wouldn't leave me alone; so I gave up and opened my eyes.

"Aw, don't cry Casey," she whispered a few times while patting my head.

I remember wishing my mother was doing that instead of Lizzy; and as a result, I decided not to let her words comfort me. I ignored her and just stared at the wall. I knew she could still see me, meaning she knew that I was ignoring her, because she was leaning over my side so she could see my face; and since it was dark she had to put her face incredibly close to mine in order to see me.

I still ignored her though. I pretended I couldn't feel her elbows digging into my side; and I pretended like all that god forsaking red hair wasn't itching my face.

Ignoring her still didn't work.

Seconds later she was crawling over me.

I shut my eyes as tight as possible, figuring the tighter they were shut the closer I was to looking as if I was asleep. I knew what she was gonna do next; and I was right. She got under my blanket and laid down next to me so that we were face to face.

She wanted to talk.

I didn't want to talk.

But she didn't care.

She leaned in close, cupped my ear with her hand, and whispered, "I know you're not sleeping," rather loudly. She was a horrible whisperer and I nearly giggled because of it. Nearly; but I was still feeling like crap.

Then her hands were on my face. She was wiping my tears away; and instead of thinking it was a sweet gesture, I thought it was disgusting. She had my snot on her hands.

I wanted her to stop. I wanted to turn away; but I couldn't. Lizzy would know that I was just pretending to be asleep…even though I already knew that she _already _knew that I was pretending to be asleep.

Little kids don't always think the most rational thoughts.

So, I had to make one of two choices. Either let Lizzy keep wiping buggers from my face, or just give in. Let her talk to me until she made me feel better so that I could go to sleep in piece.

Easy choice.

I opened my eyes to her smiling face. She was nothing short of ecstatic with her accomplishment.

Then she put on her serious face and asked me what was wrong.

I shrugged my shoulders.

She didn't believe me. No Kent ever cried for absolutely no reason. In fact, no Kent hardly ever cried period. And it wasn't just because we hardly ever got hurt. There was still Auntie Lois. She was _always _around, and she was no good with tears; especially tears that didn't have any merit.

So then Lizzy put her hand on my shoulder, in what I'm guessing was supposed to be a comforting gesture she'd learned from our father, and she told me that something _had_ to be wrong or I wouldn't be crying.

So I explained the best way I could at the time. I told her that my heart hurt.

She didn't say anything for a long time. She just hugged me close to her for about half an hour.

Unsurprisingly, I didn't feel any better. I was still crying. Not just because of "my heart hurting" but because all the crying was literally giving me a headache.

Lizzy started to get frustrated. I kinda don't blame her. She was ten, it was the middle of the night, her little sister wouldn't stop crying; and to top it all off, her little sister didn't even know _why _she was crying. If it were me and Noley, I would've just let the crybaby cry.

Then out of nowhere she flat out asked me why I didn't just tell Mom that I'm afraid of heights; and before I could answer, she was explaining to me that Mom wouldn't have tried to make me sleep on the top bunk if she would've known that I don't like heights.

It felt like Lizzy was blaming me for everything that happened, implying that it was my own fault that I got into trouble so I should've sucked it up and got over it.

I wasn't gonna do that. I told her that I'm not afraid of heights. She rolled her eyes at me and told me that I was. We argued back and forth; me saying "no I'm not," her whispering back, "yes you are."

Eventually, she stopped the back and forth game we were playing by daring me to go sleep up on the top bunk to prove I wasn't scared of heights. "Noley's up there,' I said automatically. "I'll get her down," Lizzy answered so fast I'm sure she predicted what I was going to say at least three "No I'm nots" beforehand.

But I still wasn't going up there. I told her I didn't want to, so I wasn't going to and she couldn't make me.

She mocked me then. She used a baby voice and said, "Is _little_ Kristen a'scared to sleep up high?"

I got mad at her. Even as a young kid I hated that name…because my mother hated that name. And since it was _my_ name, maybe my mother hated me a little bit too.

So I hit her. I let my anger get the best of me and I hit Lizzy so hard she fell out of the bed.

The crash was loud. I was positive she fell through the floorboards. I didn't have enough time to check though. Our parents were in our room seconds later. Lizzy hadn't even picked herself up off the floor yet; but the lights were on and Mom was yelling for Lizzy, asking if she was okay.

I didn't know how she knew it was Lizzy that got hurt before she'd even reached our room; and I didn't care. I was too scared, visibly trembling even. Lizzy was gonna tell the parents about what I did to her. My mom was gonna kill me, and I didn't even get a chance to tell Lizzy that I was sorry.

But Lizzy didn't tell on me. She told our parents that I was having a nightmare and she was just checking on me. Needless to say, neither parent believed her. I mean, what did me having a nightmare have to do with Lizzy falling on the floor? Lizzy was lying to Mom's face again.

Unfortunately for me, Mom wasn't biting that time. She wanted the truth.

Lizzy swore she was telling the truth. And when Mom asked Lizzy how she fell out of the bed, Lizzy told her that she didn't _fall _out of the bed. I pushed her; but by accident because of my scary nightmare.

That was a good one. Mom couldn't be mad at me if it was an accident; but I don't think my parents were satisfied by that answer, Mom especially. As she questioned Lizzy some more, Dad came to me for my side of the story. "That must've been some nightmare Kristen," he said while grabbing my chin gently. I felt guilty. Dad didn't call me Kristen when he was mad at me. He loved the name; he loved me. How was I supposed to lie to him?

I couldn't; and I didn't have to.

He asked me if I was okay. I nodded my head; and that was that. He kissed my cheek, told me, "good night, baby," and then he was telling me I could lay back down.

I was going to, but then Mom called out "wait," and I paused in between this sort of awkward sitting and leaning over position. My heart was beating in my chest so loudly that I knew she could hear it. I still didn't say a word. I was still scared. All she had to do was ask me what happened and I was gonna tell her that I punched Lizzy. _Lizzy_! I could hit Andrew, Jonathan, even Noley and get into deep trouble; but instinctively I knew hitting Lizzy was an unforgivable iniquity.

Mom grabbed on to my upper arms, and then her face was real close to mine. She was staring at me so intensely I nearly wet myself. Then she turned to face my father and fiercely whispered, "Clark, she's crying! Why is she crying?"

I shook my head vehemently and my eyes grew huge because of the amount of alarm in her voice. I was trying to tell her I wasn't crying. I even tried to wipe my face, to somehow get rid of the evidence, but she wouldn't let go of my arms.

My dad and Lizzy answered her at the same time. Dad said, "She had bad nightmare." Lizzy bounced up and down a few times before saying, "_See_? That's what I was _trying_ to _tell _you," with an over-exaggerated amount of exasperation and genuine relief.

Mom shushed her. Her eyes and attention were focused solely on me. "Why are you crying, sweetie?" She demanded. She obviously wasn't mad at me. She was obviously concerned about me. I wasn't gonna get in trouble; but I couldn't dredge up any feelings of relief. I just got …_sad _again. If I'd been Lizzy, she would've called me her baby like Dad did, not sweetie. I wanted her to call me baby too; but she didn't. And I knew she wasn't ever going to.

I remember my emotions draining from me; the fear, the relief, the sadness. I didn't feel anything anymore. I made myself stop caring. I was done with it. I knew my mother loved me; but I knew she loved Lizzy more and I wanted her to love us the same. But there was nothing I could do about that.

Mom asked me why I was crying again. I shrugged and told her that I had a bad dream, just like my father told her, just like Lizzy told her.

She asked me if I was okay. I told her I was. She started to ask me again but Dad stepped in and told her to let us get some sleep. I laid down and turned over immediately, showing my back to her. She sighed. She didn't get to solve her mystery. I know it bothered her a lot because I could hear her whispering to my father on their way to their room. She kept telling him that I never cry, that something was wrong; and I heard him trying to convince her to just let us sleep at least five different times before Lizzy was in my bed again.

She tapped me on the shoulder lightly. I knew what it meant and turned over to face her. She wanted to talk; but with her hands this time. Our father was probably listening to every sound we made per our mother's instruction.

Lizzy asked me if I was done crying. I signed back that I was, and that I was ready to go to sleep. She shrugged her shoulders and made to get up; but I touched her shoulder. I wanted her to stay with me. She got it immediately, laid back down next to me, and closed her eyes. I tapped her on the shoulder. _I _wanted to talk now. When she opened her eyes, I asked her why she didn't tell on me. Her answer came quickly. She didn't have to think about it at all, not even for a second. She signed to me that I hit her; but the way she was pointing at her own chest. It was if she was emphasizing _who _I'd hit, like I hit someone important. And I did. I knew it; but it was the first time I realized she knew it as well. She knew she was Mom's favorite.

I turned away from her. I'd never really been mad at Lizzy. I never blamed her for the way our mother treated her; but somehow knowing that she knew how special Mom made her out to be made me feel…_different _about her. I didn't hate her, but I didn't love her the same way that I did just minutes before.

She didn't realize it though. With my back turned on her, she couldn't see my face, or that I was done talking; but she wasn't done with me yet. Out of nowhere she told me that I should tell Mom that I'm afraid of heights and that's why I didn't want to sleep on the top bunk, and that's why I was crying. She said it really loud, and on purpose. That way Dad would hear and be able to tell Mom.

And he did. No more than a minute later, Mom was by my side, pulling me up, hugging on me, kissing me, petting me, and asking me why I didn't just tell her I was afraid of heights. This went on for a few minutes, literally. Probably the longest five minutes of my life because all I wanted was for Mom to leave me alone so I could go to bed.

I didn't talk to her, I didn't hug her back, I didn't even look at her. My eyes were trained on my dad the whole time. He was at the door, giving me this weird smile.

A few seconds before it was all done and over with, Lizzy got up to make her way to her own bed. As she passed by, she smiled at me. She thought she did me a favor, getting Mom to show me all that affection; and it was what I wanted; but not the _way _wanted it. I didn't want sympathy, and I _did not_ want my parents to know that I was afraid of heights. Because I'm not.

It's not heights that I'm actually afraid of. And it's not falling either. It's the _feeling _of falling that I don't like; that lurch in my stomach, I hate that feeling. It's why I never liked to played on the swings. As for sleeping on the top bunk with no railing, my thoughts were based on the belief that it was impossible for me to avoid falling out of the bed if I was sleeping. And I was right. Noley _still_ falls out of the bed while she's sleeping. She fell last night in fact.

Usually, Lizzy puts her back; even though Noley's been able to climb the ladder on her own for a while now. But Lizzy wasn't here last night; Kara's an alien who doesn't know that falling out of the bed is not some sort of middle of the night ritual humans partake in; and I just didn't give a damn. I left her ass on the floor. Mom or Dad could pick her up. She's their kid.

At least, that's how I felt for a couple hours anyway; but no one came to put the brat back in her bed.

I guess the parents are just so used to Lizzy doing it, it didn't even occur to them that she's not here to do what she always does.

That's definitely not it, I snort to myself before turning over a little and staring at the ceiling rather than the blonde hair that's ticking me off because it doesn't belong in my room, or in Lizzy's bed. The more logical answer is that the parents are so heartbroken over her disappearance that they can't force themselves to get out of bed and do something that would remind them of her. So, _I _had to get out of my bed, at about three in the freakin' morning because I honestly couldn't sleep with the little reject snoring and drooling on the floor, and put her back in her bed. I think she thought I was Lizzy. She smiled in her sleep when I picked her up. For a brief moment I tried to think of what she would do if she knew it was me. Probably tell me to put her down; and I'd have done so with pleasure I decide immediately.

Now, I wish I would've left her on the floor. Maybe Kara would have accidently stepped on her when she got out of bed in the middle of the night to get a snack, or pee, or whatever it is she does when she gets up in the middle of the night.

She's calling me; saying "Casey" over and over again like a mantra. I roll my eyes a few times and take deep breaths. I'm not totally ready to wake up and deal with Noley. I'm _never _ready to deal with Noley.

Next thing I know, she's in my bed, straddling me, waving her hands in my face as if I wasn't purposely ignoring her presence

"What do you think Casey?" She's asking me. She's all chipper and enthusiastic about God knows what, and she's wearing the most normal clothes I've seen her wear since she started school on Monday.

They alarm me, the clothes do. Noley dressing normal is _not _normal. She's up to something.

I shoot up into a sitting position and squint my eyes at her, paying more attention to her during the next couple of seconds than I have during her entire eight years of existence. Unfazed by my sudden movement, she scrambles out of my bed and does a little twirl for me.

Then my jaw drops as I realize I've got the stupidest kid sister on the face of the planet. Boot cut jeans, tennis shoes, a simple t-shirt, and hair styled into two pigtails; she's dressed like Lizzy.

I jump out of bed quickly enough to startle her. She jumps back away from me; but I keep coming. I am _not_ gonna let the little twerp send Mom into some heavy form of depression. She's just getting better. At least she eats now, and she talks to everybody, Dad, us, Auntie Lois, all of our godparents/members of the JL who come by to show support and take turns searching for Lizzy; she even talks to Kara a little. And Noley can ruin all of that by reminding Mom of what she's lost.

I launch out at her while yelling for her to "take those out and those off." I'm referring to her clothes and hair, but I do realize she probably doesn't get it.

"No, I can wear whatever I wanna wear," she screams while dodging me.

Apparently, she knows _exactly _what I'd been referring to, which only makes me angrier.

I chase her around our room a few times before finally catching the little retard. She kicks at me, both of her legs going as fast as she can make them; but I'm stronger so I pin her down. Not as easily as I thought I'd be able to, which I won't admit slightly impresses me, but still, quickly enough.

Then she bites me, hard, and I let go.

I really can't stand the little monkey.

She hops up quickly and tries to make a run for it. More than likely, she's on her way downstairs to tell on me. I snatch her back inside our bedroom by the waistband of her jeans just as she reaches the doorway. Not because I'm afraid she'll tell on me, but because Mom's down there. I can hear her. She's doing everything she used to do when it's time to get up and go to school for the first time since Lizzy left. If she sees Noley run down there in Lizzy's hairdo she'll probably break down in a sobby fit because she misses her baby so much.

I'm just gonna snatch the pigtails out of Noley's head real quick and then she can go down there and tell Mom whatever the hell she wants to tell her. I don't care.

But like always, things don't go as smoothly as I'd like for them to go. Noley turns around and screams, "Let go of me, _Kristen_!" And I lose my temper. I hit her. Well, it wasn't really a _hit _per se. I just…she wanted me to let go of her, so, I did; but with a lot more force than necessary. I pushed her down on the ground, and I regret it immediately.

Noley doesn't miss a beat. She doesn't even take the time to brush herself off or tell me she hates me. She just hops up and rushes downstairs.

I follow after her, ready to apologize. I know it won't get me out of trouble, or keep her from telling Mom about what I did to her; but I still want to tell her that I'm sorry. I _do_ feel bad about hurting her. She _is _just a kid. It's not her fault she's so dumb. She'll grow out of it eventually.

She reaches Mom before me and launches herself at her. Mom nearly falls, but steadies herself at the last minute. I would've helped her; but I can't seem to move. I'm frozen at the bottom of the stairs and I'm scared again; like when I was that eight year old kid who punched Lizzy. I don't care if Noley tells Mom. There's nothing I can do to make her like me any less than she already does; but Dad is a different story. I don't like it when he's mad at me. And when Noley tells Mom that I hit her, Mom's gonna tell Dad.

Noley starts crying, and I watch Mom put her arms around her.

"Noley honey, what's the matter?" Mom frowns deeply. She's worried. Like I said, we Kents aren't real big on crying; but out of us three girls, I can honestly say Noley has cried the least amount of times Lizzy and I did at her age. She's always too sickenly happy to cry.

I take a deep breath and wait for Noley's answer. Here we go.

"C-Casey doesn't w-want me to wear th-this outfit or this h-hair but I was j-just trying to make you f-_feeel_ better," she wails.

Mom pulls Noley back from her so that she can get a good look at her and see what she's talking about. Then she touches her hair, Lizzy's hairstyle, softly before speaking.

"Your pigtails are crooked, baby."

Then she laughs a little before taking them out so she can fix them.

I think I'm gonna hurl; but instead, I take a deep breath. God, I kinda wish Noley told her that I pushed her down on the ground. I'd rather get yelled at by both parents than have to watch this!

In fact, I'm _not _going to watch this. I'm going to school.

I turn back, run upstairs, and dress quickly. We're not supposed to use our gifts at home unless there's some kind of emergency; but I don't care. I gotta get outta here. Now.

I grab all of my stuff quickly, and I slip out while Mom's still doing Noley's hair. She'll never know I'm gone.

"Hey Case, wait up!"

I turn around at the sound of my brother, Andrew's, voice.

"Where are you going?"

"School.' I answer shortly.

"No need to get snappy with me."

I apologize immediately. I like Andrew.

"So, how come you're leaving so early? Why aren't you catching the bus?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I just wanna walk."

He shrugs his shoulders too before letting me off the hook with an "all right. I'm gonna just tell Mom that you went ahead."

I nod my head before turning around and continuing on with my walk. He's so naïve. Mom doesn't care about anything I do. And I'm not going to school. A few minutes ago I was; but now I really don't feel like being around everyone and their damn concern about the missing Kent. If I have to answer one more question about how my family's holding up I'm seriously gonna punch a few kids, and teachers, in the face.

I'm skipping school.

It's probably hard to believe, but his is my first time skipping school. There's nothing particularly exciting about it; but that's what I like about it. It'srelaxing. I need relaxing because being a Kent means I'm always surrounded by excitement and drama; lots of drama. I should've started skipping school a long time ago. It's really not that hard. For the most part, I've kinda just been wandering around, window shopping and daydreaming about the very _second_ I turn eighteen and am able to get away from Smallville. I think about the school I'm going to be attending. Since our godparents are in charge of our college funds, college is mandatory; but who says I have to go to Met U? I'm thinking I need to go to California; that's the closest I want to be to Kansas.

So, I walk around, thinking about college in California, the boys in California, and how no one will know I'm related to anyone in Smallville in California.

I learn a few things while skipping school though. Things like; maybe daydreaming while skipping school isn't such a good idea. There are a couple close calls. I almost run into a few JL members here and there; but they're concentrating so hard on their tasks they don't even notice me; and I also learn that I don't have to stay in or around Kansas. Why daydream about California when I can _go_ to California!

Before I can talk myself out of going, I'm there. Now, I've been to California before; but never without a parent's permission. It's just so liberating to be here on my own, without anyone's permission, or knowledge of my whereabouts. Not that they'll care. Mom's focus is on Lizzy; and Dad, all I have to tell him is I was looking for Lizzy and I'm good.

I don't stop as soon as I cross the state line. I keep going until I reach the coast; the beach. I take my shoes and socks off before rolling up my jeans and walking along the shore. I just did my toes, but I don't care right now. I alternate between letting my feet get muddy and letting the saltwater wash the sand away.

After about ten minutes of strolling, I sit down, leaving my feet in the water. It's really pretty here; but it's also kind of weird; maybe even a little lonely. I've never been to the beach by myself before. And it's not like I can go up and start talking to some of the guys here. They're all older than me, not that I'm afraid of older boys, but they probably don't want anything to do with a girl as young as me.

"Fancy meeting you here."

I jump; but I don't turn around. I'm irritated. 'Fancy meeting you here' my ass. There's no way Jeremiah just happened to be on the same beach as me. Either he followed me here or he's been waiting for me to come.

"What do you want?" I ask. There's no note of interest in my voice, and I don't look back at him. That's because I don't care about what he wants; and I really hope he's not here deliver news on Lizzy's well-being. I don't care. I just wish everyone would stop freaking out about the girl. Lizzy's fine.

"For someone who's missing a sister, you seem remarkably calm. Made peace with her disappearance, possibly even her death, already?"

I roll my eyes. "Lizzy's nowhere near dead. Morgan wouldn't allow it," I answer, still refusing to acknowledge his presence.

"Morgan wouldn't allow it," he repeats back to me slowly, savoring the sentence.

It's the tone most adults use when the kid they're talking to has said something that doesn't make sense and they're hoping that by repeating it back the kid'll catch on to the mistake they'd made.

I sigh deeply. I don't want to even try to figure out the mistake I'd made. I want him to just flat out say it.

"What makes you think Mosey's with Morgan?" he continues after my lack of response.

I don't answer him. Where else would she be? That Lex guy/Zod has risen; and everyone in my family knows he wants to take over the earth by rebuilding Krypton here. And everyone also knows he wants Lizzy to be his bride. Big surprise there. I mean, I don't want to be his bride personally; but it's kinda irritating that everyone, even alien terrorists prefer her.

Morgan told me about him, Zod, the morning Lizzy left. She told me she'll protect Lizzy from him, and I believe her. She's strong, fast, and most definitely Kryptonian. I don't know how as Krypton blew up _years _ago; but I've seen stranger things happen in my lifetime. I'm pretty sure there's a good explanation. But I never asked for it; which is probably why Morgan likes me so much. I can keep my mouth shut, and I don't ask a bunch of intruding questions or demand the truth about every little thing. That's the kind of person she needs to be around because she has so many secrets and she moves around so much. So, she likes me. She always smiles at me, hugs me, and she's _never _so much as frowned at me; not even when I've done stupid things in her presence. I won't say she likes me more than Lizzy; I mean, Lizzy spends a whole lot more time with her; but that's really my own doing. I have friends my own age to visit and socialize with. Lizzy just has Maddie, Morgan, and Jeremiah.

"You do, don't you? You think Mosey's with Morgan."

I shrug my shoulders. Again, where else would she be?

"I hate to break it to you, but Morgan's not exactly herself. Hasn't been for three days now."

I bite; just a little. "What do you mean by that?" I ask with so much disinterest in my voice I'm sure it'll convince him of just how bored I am with this whole thing.

"She's possessed," he answers lightly, his tone as disinterested as mine and making it impossible for me to tell if he's being an ass or telling the truth.

"By what?" I counter.

Jeremiah doesn't like Morgan much, so I'm expecting him to tell me she's possessed by some ditzy cheerleader, or some Salem witch, just to make some kind of crack about her before telling me what he really came here to tell me.

"Brainiac," he says instead.

My back is still facing him, so I fight the urge to turn around and show him my face. I don't want him to catch me with a dropped jaw.

I've heard of Brainiac before. I wasn't exactly eavesdropping, but I heard my dad mention something about it while talking to my godfather. I was kinda young, but I was still able to pick up on the fact that Brainiac was basically a dangerous computer/robot/alien thing from Krypton.

I turn to face Jeremiah immediately, not caring that he gets to see just how successfully he's unsettled me.

He takes a step toward me. "Zod and Brainiac, "_Morgan,_" have been up and around for three days. They've had your _sister_ for three days and three _nights_."

I notice the emphasis on the word night right away, and I lose my temper…_again_.

I'm at his throat and he's on the ground, beneath me, faster than I can give my brain time to wrap around the idea of Lizzy being an alien terrorist's prisoner for days at a time. The word night just got to me; because I know Zod wants to marry my sister, and I know what happens with married couple's at night. And I know there's no way Lizzy would willingly participate. She can't even talk to the boys in our school without stuttering, and now she's with some old perv; and there's no doubt in my mind that he's stronger than her, and even if he wasn't, there's the Brainiac computer thing. That's two against one.

Jeremiah pries my fingers from around my neck; but only because I let him. He's strong; and he's fast; but I'm stronger.

I don't let him up though. I keep him pinned down. He's only able to talk; which is what I want; for him to talk.

"As much as it must feel good to be on top of me, how is _this_ helping your sister?" he pants.

I'm disgusted by him, and I really want to choke him until he stops breathing; but he's right. Hurting him will only take time away from me; time that I could be using to find my sister.

I get up and take off, but not before giving him one clean, resounding, smack across the face. I feel I had time enough for that at least.

I don't have time to figure out where to start; and the fact that I may be wasting time by checking places everyone has already checked crosses my mind; but then I brush the thought away. Morgan moved around a lot, often. She was never in one spot for more than a few weeks at a time. What if Brainiac has access to Morgan's memories? What if it learns it can keep moving around? That would mean any place someone's already checked for her could be occupied again. And I try not to think about how much harder it will be to find her.

I just keep looking. Everywhere.

Of course I don't find her.

I take a break somewhere near the Mexican border. I don't want to stop looking for my sister; but running around the world, peaking here and there, is a bit sloppy. I need to organize my search a little; come up with some form of strategy.

I get an idea a few minutes later. Morgan always had special paint; lead paint. We can't see or hear through it. What if I start searching places I _can't_ see through? It's worth a shot?

Or at least I thought it was. It takes me exactly ten minutes to realize more people use lead paint than I thought. And a few seconds more to realize there are a lot of spots I can't see through. More spots than I _can _see through even.

I'm back to square one, so I pick a random country, Canada, and I search every inch of it as fast as I can. Despite my speed, it takes me _hours _because I have to be careful not to miss a single spot.

When I'm done I don't feel any sense of accomplishment, I don't feel as if I'm any closer to finding my sister at all. I don't feel like there's one less place I have to search for her now because what happens when I leave? What if I go off to Russia and the very second I leave Zod and Brainiac drag her here, to Canada. I've got so many more places to search before I come back here to search again; and naturally, this train of thought leads me to no other place but an oncoming panic attack.

I thought my sister had been on the run with Morgan; but she hasn't been. She's been with Zod and Brainiac; for three days and three _nights_. That's as far as my thoughts will go on the subject. I refuse to think about Lizzy being hurt. I know I wasn't nice to her; but I wouldn't ever hurt her; and I wouldn't want anybody else hurt her either. I _don't_ want anyone else to hurt her; and with that thought going through my mind I ignore all doubts of finding her that I've been having, and I search again.

I search for hours, hardly ever blinking, and never getting tired. I'm determined to find her; and it never occurs to me that I'm alone; that if I do find her I'll have to face Zod and Brainiac on my own. Right now, I'm so charged up I can probably take them both.

"_Oh God, no!"_

I stop mid run. I'm in Japan and I hadn't been listening for any members of my family; but that was my mother. I heard her loud and clear, over everything else. The way she just screamed makes my heart beat triple, both in speed and sound.

If they found Lizzy, that's not the way Mom should sound if it's good news. It's the way she'd sound if my sister was…was…

"My baby!" Mom screams louder, hysterically; and before I can tell myself that I _don't _want to see my sister if she's been… if she's not conscious, I'm running. I'm on my way home. I'm in the U.S. I'm in Kansas. I'm on the farm. I'm running up the porch steps. I'm running through the door, up the stairs, and I don't stop until I'm standing in front of my mom.

I don't take a deep breath of relief when I see my sister's nowhere around. For all I know, Mom could've heard the bad news from somewhere, or someone, else. Probably Auntie Lois as she's the one holding onto my mother, rocking her back and forth, while she continues to scream for her baby.

"Mom!" I call, my tone is demanding, urgent. After all, she's not carrying on for no reason.

She goes silent immediately and turns in my Aunt's arms to look at me.

"Mom, what's going on?" I ask. I notice my voice isn't as sturdy as it'd been seconds ago. I'm expecting some real bad news about my sister.

She doesn't answer me. She just jumps up and launches herself at me. She shouldn't have. I'm not exactly the softest thing around; but she doesn't seem to care that she's hurt herself. She's hugging me so tight that I actually take the time to be thankful for the fact that I'm invulnerable; otherwise, she would've killed me.

"Casey, my baby," she chokes out; and I begin to tremble. What's happened to her baby? My sister?

"What, Mom? What's wrong?" I ask.

As an answer, a much stronger pair of hands latch onto me. I wince. They hurt. Must be my father.

And I'm right. My mother's brushed away and my father's replaced her. He's got a vise grip on my upper arms and he's yelling at me. "Where have you been?" he demands, giving me a little jerk. "Answer me!" But I can't. I gap up at him; because I've never seen him like this before. He looks…_deranged_.

He's scaring me.

"Clark, you're hurting her," Mom calls.

I don't dare look her way. I keep looking up at my father, because he keeps yelling at me. He's completely ignoring Mom.

"What the hell were you thinking? Huh!"

"I"-

"What did you think would happen when your mother went out to the school to pick up and discovered you weren't there; that you hadn't even gone to school?"

"I"-

"And what did you think would happen when we found your book bag and cell phone lying in the middle of the street!"

My phone and bookbag? I must've left them behind the second I decided to go to California. When I ran away, and chilled out on a beach while my sister is probably getting hurt. My family has been looking for me when they could've been looking for her.

My eyes slide a little to the right, to a spot just behind his left ear. The clock.

It's three o'clock in the morning.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"You're sorry!" My father exclaims as his grip on my arms gets tighter. I try my best not to wince, or make any expression that would let everyone know how much this hurts, as I whisper out a shaky "Yes."

"Clark!"

"Smallville!"

My mom And Auntie yell at my father at the same time; but he doesn't seem to hear them. They both stand beside him, tugging on his arms, trying to get him to let me go; but he doesn't seem to feel them either.

"Where were you?"

"At the beach, in California," I answer softly.

I watch his face get darker, angrier; and I have no choice but to feel his grip tighten; and I know he's using most of, if not all, of his strength. He's gonna break my arms. And I'm gonna let him. I could've told him I was looking for my sister. It wouldn't have gotten me off the hook; but I know Dad would've loosened his grip, that his face would've softened. But I don't want any of that. I've been nothing short of a bitch to my sister over the past few years. I deserve this punishment.

"Dad! Her arms, let go!"

That's John.

"Dad, what the hell are you doing!"

And that's definitely Andrew.

It takes both of them to get Dad to let me go; and I'm told to go to bed. I don't think my dad can stand the sight of me any longer. I leave without looking around at anyone else. I especially avoid looking at my mother. I'm not proud of myself for making her cry.

I make it to my room quickly. The sooner I go to bed, the sooner I can wake up and start my search for my sister again. That's if Dad trusts me enough to let me go out on my own.

I sniff a little; and realize I'm crying. Then my bed dips, and I know who it is. My sister; but the wrong one.

"Aw, Casey, don't cry," Noley croons while petting my hair.

I laugh, not in an amused way. This is just the most painful sort of déjà vu I've ever experienced, ever.

I take a deep breath before siting up quickly. Noley flinches and I suddenly feel ten times worse than I did before. I pushed her down this morning. That's why she flinched just now.

I pull my blanket back, silently inviting her to sleep beside me. She scoots in immediately, without the _slightest _bit of hesitation. That's Noley; quick to forgive and even quicker to forget.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her.

She turns her back to me. I totally deserve that too; but then she reaches behind herself and grabs my arm before draping it across her waist; and she's holding my hand too.

I sit up a little and lean over her a bit. This is kinda weird for me. We've never really been close like this, and I guess I just wanna see if I can figure her out, or where her head is.

I can't. She's sleep. Already.

Now I see why Lizzy likes her so much. She's such a freak of nature; but she's also kinda cute. When she's asleep at least.

I lie back down, ready to fall asleep. Hopefully when morning comes, Dad will be a little calmer and he'll allow me to help search for my sister rather than waste my time at Smallville High.

I'm not surprised when sleep doesn't come.

I can't sleep.

Because I'm sure Lizzy can't sleep.

I get up, carefully untangling myself from Noley. Then I slip outside. Thoughts of getting caught leaving the house by my father don't enter my mind as I quickly, and quietly, make my way to the cellar. I haven't been in there for a while. The place I go to be alone, and to think, has been occupied by Kara's ship. It doesn't feel much like my spot anymore.

But tonight I don't care.

I light a few of the Kerosene lanterns that litter the place. I don't need much light. I just need a place to think until the sun rises.

I sit down on the bottom step, my chin resting in my palms. As much as I want to, I can't think straight. My thoughts keep straying to my sister; and I don't want to think about her, or what she's probably been going through.

"Casey?"

I jump up; startled by the raspy voice that has become my mother's. She's been crying too much; screaming too much. By the sound of it, she hasn't lost her voice completely; but she's nearly there.

I can't believe I didn't hear her open the cellar door.

I turn around, my body facing her; but I don't feel brave enough to look her in the eyes, not even when she comes to me and touches my arms; the place my Dad grabbed onto me.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

I nod my head, keeping my eyes downcast. And the fact that she's still rubbing my arms, trying to soothe the ache that's no longer present, makes me feel even worse. I know "I'm sorry" won't cut it; but I say it anyway.

Mom takes a step toward me, getting much closer, and her hands are suddenly on either side of my face. She's trying to make me look up at her; but I don't want to.

"Casey," she pleads; and I give in. I look her straight in the eyes.

"Why'd you come back?"

I have to admit, I wasn't expecting that question; and I honestly don't know how to interpret it, or what her motives are for asking it. But at the same time, it's a clear cut question; one that has a clear cut answer. So I answer.

"I heard you screaming."

She swallows with a little difficulty. I can see it in her face, she was expecting the answer I gave her; but it still hurt to hear it. I don't have time to wonder why before she speaks again.

"If you hadn't heard me screaming, would you have come home?"

The answer is no. I would've still been searching for my sister. I probably wouldn't have ever thought to come home without her.

Mom nods her head slowly, as if I'd given her an answer to her question. One she'd been fearing, and I watch a single tear slip out of the corner of her eye.

"You hate me _that _much," she whispers.

It's not a question, it's a statement. She thinks I hate her; and she's hurt by the thought.

I don't hate her. I've never hated her. I've thought she was unfair, and I've been disappointed, angry, and hurt by her; but I've never hated her. I could _never _hate her. If anything, I love her too much. That's why I get so angry when she doesn't seem to love me the same way. It hurts.

But now she's hurt, and despite the fact that I'd told my father I'd been at the beach all day, I feel the need to come clean with my mother. Maybe she'll stop crying.

"I don't hate you, Mom," I clarify.

I can see a small bit of hope flicker across her eyes as she waits for me to explain further. She's still got her hands pressed against my cheeks, and since I'm not used to such a long period of intimacy from her, I start to feel a little… _weird_. Kinda like when Noley was holding my hand.

"I didn't spend all day at the beach. I was looking for Lizzy."

Her face softens immediately, as I knew it would.

"Oh Casey, why didn't you just tell your father that?" she asks, and her hands slide down away from my face and back onto my arms. She doesn't understand why I just sat there and said nothing to help myself out while Dad was yelling at me.

My thoughts go back to Lizzy, my sister, and my bottom lip begins to tremble. I can't even look my mother in her face anymore.

"Casey?"

Her hands are back on my cheeks; she's trying to get me to look up at her again. But I can't.

"I couldn't find her," I choke out. She pulls me to her, sits me down on the bottom step, hugs on me, pats my head, rocks me back and forth, shushes me; but I can't be quiet. "I searched, and searched, and I listened, and I still couldn't find her. No matter where I went, she wasn't there, Mommy," I wail like the small child I feel like right now.

Mom holds me tighter, rocks me a little more slowly, all the while whispering, "Shh baby, it's okay," repeatedly.

I just keep crying into her chest, letting her call me baby without so much as stiffening my back. Maybe if I'd taken my sister's disappearance serious and helped search for her sooner, Mom would've had her baby back by now.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **So, there's Casey. Like I said, she doesn't really have a fantastic reason for being the way she is; but I hope getting inside her head made you hate her a little less. If not, oh well. I never set out to make all the OCs characters everyone would fall in love with. I thought that would be boring. And besides, I kinda think Casey's funny. And I'm also sorry the chapter's so long. Casey had a lot more to say than I thought she would;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Essenbee: **thank you! I'm glad you're able to understand Casey a bit more

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**The fallen sky: **I am too fun! Just 'cause I won't tell you the secret doesn't mean anything. You'll know when everybody else gets to know! It's only fair;)

Of course, I'm slightly offended you really think my Chloe would treat her children that way. Like I've said, it's been hard portraying views and opinions of certain people. When seeing things from an eight year old Casey's eyes, you have to remember that it doesn't exactly mean that's what happened. It means that's how she _remembers _it happening.

The best way I can explain that incident is by using a real life example.

I recently had the same problem. My sister accused me of favoring my goddaughter over my godson. I was extremely upset by the accusation, not just because I _know_ I love them both the same, but because a part of me felt like she was right. I've noticed more hugs and kisses are exchanged between me and my goddaughter, than me and her brother. And I never meant for that to happen; but at the same time, I truly feel as if I love and treat them the same…So, I asked my mother. And I told her to tell me the truth; no matter what. She didn't answer me right away; because she was _seriously_ thinking about her answer. It made me so nervous because I was sure she was trying to figure out a way to tell me that my sister was right as nicely as she could.

But then she told me that it's not that I favorite my goddaughter over my godson, but rather _my goddaughter_ favors me more than her brother does. She just turned 8 and she comes up to me, hugs me, kisses me, vies for my attention, sits in my lap, follows me wherever I go (including the bathroom if I forget to lock the door), and sleeps in my bed…even if I put her on the couch, she'll wake up at about 3am and sneak into my bed. It's actually pretty disturbing when I put it on paper. I mean, I remember once,( and this was actually just a few months ago), she made me late for work because she wanted 15 kisses and she wouldn't let me go until I gave her all fifteen of them…whereas my godson, he'll kiss me goodbye if I'm leaving, or he'll kiss me hello if he hasn't seen me in a while; but he rarely comes to me "just because" the way his sister will. He'd rather play his video games.

I'm sure if my godson decided one day that I love his sister more than I love him, he could look back and remember how much more affection I gave her. But it doesn't mean I love her more. It means I wouldn't say no to her whenever she inadvertently demanded me to prove that I love her over and over again.

The same is true for Casey and Lizzy. Lizzy was ten, which means she'd been having her nightmare for three years now. I imagine she was extra clingy with Chloe, asking for kisses, hugs, just general attention to make sure her mother still loved her. Whereas Casey had no reason to believe her mother didn't, or would stop loving her. And as an eight year old child, Casey wasn't going to realize that all of the over-exaggerated affection exchanged between Lizzy and Chloe was being initiated by _Lizzy_, not Chloe. And of course Chloe was going to participate when Lizzy did all her demanding of affection. I mean, if her kid asked her for a hug and a kiss she wasn't gonna say no. I don't know any mother who would.

**Dizzy78: **Thank you! I'm really glad you're starting to like Casey; and I'm even more glad that the last bit made you all emotional. That's always fun for an author to hear;)

**Shonnia22: ** Thanks! You're absolutely right. Chloe and Casey really need a sit down; just the two of them. I'm glad you enjoyed that one.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

The school guidance counselor, Ms. K, is more than a pleasure to look at; but today, if I have to sit in this seat, facing her, for just five more minutes, my fist is going through the walls. All of them. There will no longer be a standing Smallville High when I'm through.

"Andrew," she whispers while leaning forward, her elbows on her desk, her hands clasped together. God, if this were any other day…week…_time _in my life, I'd seriously be staring at her newly exposed cleavage rather than my bitten fingernails. I mean, they're really nice boobs, and she's a really hot chick; but I'm not in the mood to appreciate her.

"Andrew, you've _got_ to let someone in."

I sigh deeply. I could've made a very good dirty joke with that one; but again, I'm not in the mood.

"You don't have to talk to _me_, but you should talk to _someone_."

Another deep sigh from me. I don't need to talk to anyone. My sister's missing. I don't need therapy to figure out that I miss her and that I'm worried about her.

It's Ms. K's turn to sigh deeply. She's a bit of a sore loser. If she doesn't make us feel better, she feels like she's not doing her job; like she's failing or something. Or so I've heard. This is my first time being sent to her. It's usually to the principal I go.

"You _need _to talk about it," she says firmly, clearly trying to get an aura of strength about herself.

I work my jaw from side to side. She wanted to make me feel something, show an interest in the uncomforting words coming out of her mouth, didn't she? Well, she's succeeded. She's annoyed me.

"It" is not an it. She's my sister, a girl that I secretly refer to as my little big sister. She's taller than me, older than me; but I don't see her as _my _big sister. I _can't_ see her that way. She's not immature or childish or anything. She's just…a softy. She lets everyone walk over her, take advantage of her, treat her like crap; and it's not because she _can't _defend herself. She just doesn't seem to care. She believes that just because she has powers doesn't mean she should use them to get what she wants, or needs…like a little respect. She has this crazy notion that if it's not gonna physically hurt her to give another person what _they _want, then why not just give in? And considering the fact that the only thing that can physically hurt Lizzy Kent is kryptonite, and only people who love her and would never use it against her know about it, there is an infinite amount of caving in my sister has, and will continue to let herself be forced into doing.

A girl like that needs an older brother's protection.

I expect John to do it; but he won't; and not because he's not technically Lizzy's older brother. He seems to believe Lizzy's martyr ways are admirable. Like her being an insufferable goody two shoes is just the way she is and that we should accept her as she is.

I know deep down, he wishes he could be more like her; but he's not. When people take advantage of her, or tease her, I see just how bad it bothers him. He's not as good as hiding it as he'd like to think; but he won't help her. She's never asked for help and she always seems so happy, like nothing ever bothers her. I guess he assumes she'd ask for help if she needed it.

His logic disturbs me. He's the sensitive, caring, brother. You'd think he'd be able to figure out a psychological puzzle like that easily. If Lizzy is the kind of goody two shoes who allows everyone to have their way to keep them happy, why wouldn't it occur to him that Lizzy would be hiding the way she feels for his, all of our, sakes? That she would smile while she's hurt, just because she doesn't want any of us to worry about her?

I'll say it again. That kind of girl _needs_ the protection of an older brother…even when she _claims _she doesn't need, or want, it.

And that is how I ended up in the office. I might've had what others would describe as a slightly _aggressive_ overreaction to a comment one of my friends made to me about her disappearance. And since I'm "grieving" over my loss, I was sent here, to the guidance counselor, instead of straight to the principal.

Any other time, this would be quite the change of pace. Principal Jip is not much fun to look at. He's old, balding, scabbing, and he's got 437 freckles on his face alone. Literally. I counted them the sixth time I was sent to his office freshman year. Needless to say, I was bored. He made the mistake of thinking a long chat with me, rather than a swift trial and verdict, would help me change my behavior.

"Are you angry?" Ms. K asks, not knowing, or caring, that she's interrupted my thoughts.

I look down at my hands and notice I'm extremely tight fists. Huh; would you look at that. I am angry. I wasn't before. I was simply annoyed; but all the pushing and prodding…I gotta get out of here.

I brace my palms against the armrests of this suddenly very uncomfortable chair. I haven't decided to get up and walk away, but subconsciously my brain is getting my body prepared to do so.

"Would you like to leave?"

I smile. She's not being sarcastic. Her tone of voice is genuine; and her beautiful, beautifully manicured hands are digging in her desk drawer. I think she's gonna give me a hall pass.

My smile widens into a full blown grin when I see that it's not a hall pass she's pulling out. It's a check out slip. By leave she meant _leave_; as in leaving Smallville High and going home; not leaving her office. I love this woman.

I lean forward in my seat; aware that all I need is a wagging tail to compliment this "eager for treat" dance of mine. Ask me if I care.

I watch her right hand avidly as it plunges into the Betty Boop pencil holder, pulls out a pen and poises just above the yellow slip.

But that's all it does. It just stays there, hovering nearly three inches above the check-out referral.

What the hell?

I look up. Her mouth shuts. It's been moving; but I haven't been paying attention to what it's been saying.

"Uh, say that again," I request.

She blows out a small puff of air and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. I can tell she's a little unsure of herself. Her hair was already behind her ear.

"I said, if you want to leave, I have to have a valid reason to let you go. Give me one."

I narrow my eyes at her. She's trying to trick me into talking about my _feelings_. I sit back and regard her with my arms crossed over my chest. She's not nearly as nice as I thought she was.

"If you're just fine, you can go back to class," she says. She gives me another one of those sighs but I see right through it. It's a fake. She's waiting for me to jump up, shout "Okay, okay, you win," and start spilling my guts out.

I really _don't _want to do that.

But I _really _want to leave.

What's a man to do?

She makes a show of putting the slip back in her drawer, and just as she picks up her pen, which she unnecessarily placed on her desk in order to open up her drawer, I speak up. "What do I have to say to make you sign that piece of paper?"

She lets her pen dangle over that corny little pencil holder of hers for a few seconds as she regards me, carefully weighing her options. Should she cave, let me give her a bogus answer because it's probably the best she's gonna get out of me; or should she chance holding out for the real deal? For me to genuinely bare my soul to her.

I seriously hope she doesn't choose the latter. I'd rather stay here, in school, than open up.

She seems to get that because she puts the pen down next to the slip and sighs.

"All right, tell me why you're here," she says.

That's it? Tell her why I'm here? She already _knows _why I'm here; which causes me to be suspicious of her, wonder what she's up to now. But I tell her anyway. It's not gonna hurt me to tell her something she already knows. And the sooner I do so, the sooner her true intentions will be revealed to me.

"I shut a guy's arm in his locker while he was reaching for a school book. Can I go now?"

"Do you know this "guy's" name?" She counters immediately, again leaning forward; but this time with an eagerness that suggests she's getting somewhere.

She's not getting anywhere.

"Frank Josiah," I answer. Short; swift; sweet; and to the point.

"Did you know Frank Josiah?"

"Yes?"

"For how long?"

"Years."

"Friend or foe?"

I pause there in our little game of Q and A. She's asking questions specifically designed to achieve her ultimate goal; getting me to talk about my feelings. This chick just doesn't quit.

"Andrew, friend or foe?"

I keep my mouth shut. She doesn't like that very much, and without warning she silently begins putting the stuff I need to get out of here away. She's not bluffing this time. I can tell. I debate with myself for a few seconds. I don't really need the slip to get out. I can be outta here before she finishes shutting her desk drawer. But then, it's not exactly the best time to go missing from school. Not with Lizzy being gone and all.

"Friend," I relent through clenched teeth.

Ms. K smiles and pulls the yellow slip back out. I'm beginning to think it's not worth all of this. I could just go back to class. There's only five hours left of school.

I sigh. Five hours is a long ass time to wait to get out of a place I already don't feel like attending in the first place.

"A close friend?" she digs a little deeper.

"Yes."

"How close?"

"Close."

"Close like maybe a good friend to hang with at school, or like a best friend, or like a brother, or…"

I work my jaw a little before answering. No one's close enough to me to be considered my brother; except maybe Sam; but Frank's not just an "at school buddy" either.

I settle for "best friend."

"Best friend huh? He must've done something awful to make you shut his hand in his locker."

It's a statement, technically; but I also recognize the question in there.

"He didn't _do _anything." I answer reluctantly. I silently chastise myself for doing so. I know what she wants. Either I give it to her and she signs that slip, releasing me; or I stop wasting her time and go back to class. Why am I dragging this out?

"Did he _say _something you didn't like?"

"I miss my sister." I answer her.

She blinks at me; clearly confused for one…two…three…four…complete seconds before she realizes I've answered her questioned; her initial question. Why am I here, in her office.

"I think school is a waste of time. I should be looking for her. Can I please leave?"

Ms. K nods her head. I expected her to indulge in a small smile of victory; but she doesn't. She signs the slip without hesitation and tells me to take it to the administrative office before paging someone there to call one of my parents to come get me. I hope it's not my mother. I hope they call my father first. Usually, it's much easier to get out of trouble if I get to Mom first; but I'm not interested in getting out easily. I can take responsibilities for my actions; no problem. Especially if it means not being an added stress to my mother.

My walk to the administrative office isn't a long one. I walk quickly, trying my best to ignore the whispers and stupid rumors. Most of the student body is convinced my sister was so honored by all the attention Heath gave her that she ran away with him and refuses to come home. It's a silly rumor and anyone who knows, _really _knows, my sister would never consider it. But then there are a few others, like Frank, who believe Lizzy's dead; maybe even murdered by Heath. I was expecting that one; and I've heard it a few times; but hearing it come out of Frank's mouth, it was _different. _Other kids whisper their rumors, thoughts and opinion behind our backs; but Frank thought that as my friend he should tell me to my face.

I realize he was right; but at that moment I just …lost my temper.

I vow to apologize to him whenever I see him again just as I enter the office. I doubt it will fix everything and that I'll be forgiven immediately; but it'll be a start.

I don't have to wait long before my mother walks in. I'm a little disappointed, but overall I'm happy to see her. She looks a whole lot better than she's been looking over the past few days. She even fixed breakfast for us and everything. Well, the part where she did Noley's hair the way Lizzy usually wears hers was a little weird; but she was smiling. That's good right?

"Andrew Blake, what have you done now?" she asks as she approaches me. She's reprimanding me, like she's always done with the trace of the smallest of smiles. She really is getting better.

I smile back at her before embracing her.

"Oh no you don't," she mumbles against my shoulder while trying to pull back. She thinks I'm trying to get out of trouble, like I usually am. She just doesn't understand that I don't care about how much trouble I'm going to get into. I'm just happy to have even a smidgen of my old mom back.

"You're still telling Dad, aren't you?" I play along.

As a response she nods her head before turning away from me and heading toward the administrative desk.

I walk up beside her. "You know Mom,"-

"Don't even think about it."

I smile again. She didn't look up from the paper she was signing as she shot me down. It's another good sign that she's getting back to normal. But I really wasn't trying to plead my case again.

"You should check John and Casey out too," I continue.

Even though John tries not to show it, I know he would love to get out of school and help look for Lizzy some more; and as for Casey, she was really ticked off this morning. I'm sure she's getting tired of being here at Smallville High and listening to all the B.S. rumors.

Mom tilts her head to the side a little, considering my words, before conceding that it's a good idea. Seconds later, my brother and sister are being paged to the front office.

John arrives first, and upon seeing our mother he frowns and rushes up to her.

"Mom, what's going on?"

"Get out of jail free card," I answer him so he can stop freaking out. I know he's assumed something drastic has happened with our sister; and I need him to calm down before he starts to freak our mother out.

"Oh," he says before relaxing completely.

Nothing else is said for a while. We're just waiting on Casey; but she doesn't come. She's paged twice more before the woman handling our check-out checks her computer for any hints on Casey.

Turns out, Casey never made it to school today.

That's impossible. Not the fact that Casey skipped school; but Smallville High is extremely strict with absences and tardies. Parents are notified when their child doesn't say "here" during homeroom.

Surely my parents were called when Casey didn't show up.

"I don't understand," my mother says. It doesn't seem as though she's talking to anyone in specific; but Mrs. Lindol answers with little compassion. "It says here that her father called the school this morning and excused her."

My mom shakes her head. Dad wouldn't do that without telling her. And since the school's not thorough enough to make sure our father was the one who actually called them up to excuse Casey, there's only one conclusion she'll come up with.

Someone took her. The same way someone took Lizzy.

More than likely, that's not the case. There's a 70% chance Casey's just taking a break from school. Of course if that's the case, she's taking that break with some guy because he's obviously the one who called the school; but I can handle that. She may not have the best taste in men, but at least she can defend herself if he tries any funny business.

But, just in case our father did borrow Casey and forget to tell Mom about it, I pull my phone out and dial his number. He answers on the second ring.

And as soon as the words "Hey Dad," leave my mouth I start to feel a bit claustrophobic for two reasons. One, if he answers "no" to my question our whole family's gonna be on lockdown; and two, my mother and brother are by my side. John's not standing so close. He can hear every word by taking a few seconds to focus on his hearing; but Mom, the only way she can hear is to press her ear directly against my phone…which is directly against _my_ ear.

"Is everything alright Andrew?"

My dad sounds calm; but I can tell he's holding his breath, hoping I don't have bad news for him as well as hoping I've got good news for him. I put him out of his misery quickly.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Mom came up here to check us out early but Casey isn't here. You didn't by any chance call the school this morning and excuse her, did you?" I ask as casually as I can.

My answer is silence on his end.

Not good.

"Are you saying Casey's miss…not there?"

Not good at all.

But I don't have to answer. Mom's snatched my phone away and has walked off with it. I follow her, thinking we're on our way to the car, but she doesn't head toward her parking space. She doesn't seem to be heading any lace in specific, just a quiet place with less of an audience. I don't follow after her then, and I respect her enough not to listen in even though I can. If she wanted me to hear what she was saying, she wouldn't have gone anywhere.

Damn Casey. What was she thinking?

I look over my shoulder, ready to tell John we should go look for her; but he's already gone; leaving me to tell our mother that we're going to go looking for the stupid girl…ix-nay the "stupid girl" part.

On my way up to her, I start dialing Casey. I should've done that first; we _all_ should've done that first, but with Lizzy already missing no one's thinking straight. We're getting so used to expecting devastating and complicated explanations that simple solutions, like calling her, don't seem to come to mind.

I don't get an answer; but I stay calm as I tell my mother that I'm going to look for her. I have to remember she's Casey, not Lizzy. Her disappearing doesn't exactly mean something's wrong. She's not really the type to check in with the family if she decides to go off. She never had to be.

She could be ignoring my call because she doesn't feel like talking.

I call her again and run off, waiting for her to press the ignore button on her phone so that I can't track her by following her ringtone. I've done that before.

But she never does; her phone keeps ringing. This _could_ be good. This could mean she knows I'm coming and doesn't mind seeing me; but for some reason I don't think that's the case. I have the feeling she's not answering her phone because she can't; because she's nowhere near it.

And I'm right.

I find her book bag and phone just lying on the ground nearly fifty miles south of Topeka, in the middle of nowhere.

"Casey!" I yell. Though I don't believe she'll answer.

"Casey's not here, kid."

I turn around at the sound of another human's voice. My teeth are clenched, my hands balled into fists. I recognize that voice. Heath, Lizzy's "boyfriend," and I know the guy is probably just a few years older than me. Who does he think he is; calling me "kid?"

"Where. Is. She?" I grind out while taking slow and deliberate steps toward him. I don't know who I'm asking for; Lizzy, Casey, though I want both. I should've asked where are _they_; I'm too busy trying my best to keep my temper in check. God, I'm no good at keeping my temper in check.

And he's not making it any easier. He's just standing there, arms crossed over his chest, regarding me with raised eyebrows and an amused smirk on his ugly face.

He keeps his stance, even when I come to stand toe to toe, eye to eye, to him. Even as my nose flares and my jaw twitches; warning signs that he's gonna end up in the hospital in about a millisecond if he doesn't start taking me seriously.

"I'm not gonna ask you again," I breathe.

Heath sighs, as if he's bored before opening his mouth to speak.

I don't give him the chance. This punk needs to understand that I'm not my father. I'm not afraid to rough him up a little if it'll give me any information on either of my sisters. He needs to take me seriously.

He takes the hits I give him, helping me realize he's not human. It's good and bad. Good because I can hit him harder; bad because he's capable of dishing it out as well. Which means he might be strong enough to hurt my sisters.

Suddenly I'm being flipped over. He's finally decided to fight back; and I get a little excited. I do like a challenge. Pounding in the face of a guy who's not willing to fight, well, there's really no victory or satisfaction in that.

I expect a blow to my face, which I can take because I plan on giving many more in return; but it doesn't come. Instead, he pulls something out of his pocket and tells me that he's "got something for me."

I move to get up immediately. If it's something like blue kryptonite, then I need to defend myself. Sure, the stuff doesn't hurt me physically, but it turns me human. Humans can die from simple things like gunshot wounds.

But I can't get up. He's got a pretty good hold on me; has pinned me down quite effectively. If I wasn't the one being pinned, I'd find the time to admire his technique.

I'm relieved when the thing he takes out of his pocket isn't glowing blue. It's small, silver, and pentagonal in shape.

He puts it closer to my face and I can't stop my eyebrows from furrowing. I recognize the symbol on it. It's Kryptonian, a mark of the house of El. My father's people. What is this jerk doing with it?

I should be more suspicious of it. This could be a trap or something; but I find myself reaching for it anyway.

When I nearly touch it, he pulls it back from me to wipe he's nose. There's blood under it. I did that. I don't even know how many times I punched him in the face; but most of the bruising's disappeared already reminding me that he's not human. I shouldn't trust anything he says. I shouldn't touch the relic he has in his hand. It could be dangerous. _He_ could be dangerous. I sit up slowly, all the while watching him as he looks at the back of his hand; at all the blood there.

"You're lucky you're Mosey's baby brother," he says before tossing the relic onto my chest and getting up to walk away.

I can't say which direction he heads in because I'm seeing things, visions. They go by so fast; and there are so many different images. My brain is able to single out, and make sense, of a few; like a baby being put into a ship, a dark-haired man holding a blonde lock of hair, crying, the same man leading people, soldiers, into what can only be described as battle. Lizzy pregnant…wait, Lizzy pregnant? What the hell?

I jump up; and I'm not surprised when I see that Heath is long gone. I wouldn't stick around if I was him either.

I pull my phone out, ready to call my father and tell him what happened, but I don't get the chance to.

"Where did you get this?"

It's Kara, my new cousin, straight from Krypton. That's the only reason I don't yell at her and snatch the relic she just swiped from me out of her hand. Maybe it's not rude on Krypton to take something from someone without their permission.

"Why? What is it?" I ask, giving her a slightly harder time because there should be _some_ form of penalty for what she did.

She narrows her eyes at me, and as a response, I smirk at her. I knew that would bother her. She's really bossy; a lot like Casey in fact. It seems she thinks any question she asks should be answered immediately and truthfully.

But I don't tease her any more than that. Fun times over. I've still got to find my sisters.

"When that thing touched me, I saw _things_," I try.

"Where did you find it?" she repeats her question. She doesn't seem the least bit surprised by what I said; which means she already knows the thing gives weird vision flashes.

"I saw my sister…pregnant," I add the last bit through clenched teeth. Everyone in our family knows why Zod took my sister by now. He wants to make a new krypton; and he wants to use my sister to do it. If that _thing _is some kind of future teller, that means…that means…

"That wasn't your sister," Kara sighs as if I'm an idiot. "This is Mor-El's journal."

I let out a lungful of breath I'd been holding. I need to sit down. The relief I'm feeling is intense, overwhelming even; but I don't have time to sit down. Kara takes off. I follow her. That must be Kryptonian too, running off without warnings.

"So, Mor-El was your auntie, right? What happened to her?" I ask as soon as she stops. I wasn't exactly paying attention to where I was going; just following the blonde in the red tank and jean shorts; but I'm pretty sure we're in Brazil. This rainforests is extremely vast.

She calls Casey's name then stands still, listening.

I mimic her actions; scanning the forest for my sister.

"Mor-El disappeared when I was a little girl." She finally answers. I wasn't expecting an answer at all. In fact, I nearly forgot I asked. And since she's answering questions, I ask another.

"What do you mean she disappeared? And that man who was holding the hair, who was he? And the baby in the ship, that was my dad right? And"-

"Not yet," Kara says, moving on to another part of the forest.

I follow her, again. "When?" I ask, just after shouting Casey's name and listening for her response.

I don't get one.

"When we find your sister; the blonde one."

"Casey," I smile; remembering she and Kara don't exactly get along and wishing my sister was here to fight with her.

"Yeah, that one," Kara says; but she doesn't have a smile on her face. She shakes her head and mutters "stupid girl" under her breath. If she was anyone else, I'd take offense to what Kara said about my sister; but coming from her, it gives me hope that Casey's alright. Like me, Kara must believe Casey's just off alone, doing her own thing.

"We move again; well, Kara moves and I follow her.

"So, if Mor-El was pregnant, that means you had a cousin, right?"

"He died," she answers shortly.

"He? What was his name?"

"Col."

Another short answer.

"How'd he die?"

That was a stupid question on my part. Krypton blew up. That's how _everyone _died.

"He was a sick child, he died at the age of three."

We haven't been looking at each other while talking. We're still searching and scanning for Casey; but I look at her then and tell her I'm sorry.

She doesn't answer. I've probably made her sad.

"So who was his father?" I realize I should stop; but if I stop, I'll only have my thoughts to occupy my mind. And I'd really rather not think about my missing sisters.

"Mor-El's husband."

I have a feeling she's being vague on purpose; and it makes me smile a little as we move again, searching for my sister in in a spot just a few miles away.

"So, what was her husband's name?"

"Dru. Enough questions Andrew. Concentrate on finding your sister."

"What kind of a name is Drew?" Granted, I'm used to Kryptonians having weird names; but Drew. That's kinda human. I mean, some people even call _me_ Drew as a shorter form of Andrew.

"You call him by his house name here."

House name? Oh, his last name; like the house of El type deal.

"What's his house name?"

She doesn't answer me. She calls for Casey instead; making me suspicious.

So, I repeat my question.

"Zod," she answers without looking my way.

"Zod! My great aunt was _married _to Zod? He was his wife!"-

I'd say a lot more, ask a lot more questions; but Kara sighs and takes off again. This time she shoots up into the air where I can't follow. I gap up at her, how could she leave me down here with so many questions like this!

I almost ignore my phone as I receive a text message; but it could be important.

When I see that it's from Kara, I open it immediately. It reads:

"Better to split up. Cover more ground. Find the blonde faster."

I text her back, asking her if she'll finish answering _all _of my questions once we find Casey.

"You have my word," is her response; and I grin because I know that's a promise she's going to keep. When she gives her word, it's like some kind of blood oath, punishable by death if reneged on or something. That must be a Kryptonian thing too.

I love that woman and all her Kryptonian ways.

If only she wasn't my cousin.


	17. Chapter 17

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Nakala: **Thank you so much. I'm glad you like Andrew. He's fun to write. And yeah, Lizzy's coming up real soon;)

**The fallen sky: **Lol. I said _slightly _offended. Don't get so excited; but I am glad I was able to explain myself to you. I didn't know if you'd buy it. Yay me!

You're too funny! Do you really expect me to answer all those questions and give you special treatment just because we're friends? Arrogant much? You're almost as bad as Heath;) That guy's majorly arrogant. Or so I've been told.

I think you'll like this chapter though. A few more questions are answered. Oh, and there are three more chapters. Not including this one.

**Shonnia22: ** Thank you! Andrew is a lot of fun isn't he? I'm so glad you liked that chapter

**Madlenita: **Oh, I'm so sorry about your laptop. I'd die if I didn't have mine for _months_! I don't know how you did it; but welcome back

**Dizzy78: **lol. You'll find out who heath is soon enough;)

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

A funeral. That's what today feels like. This is supposed to be a party; but no one, especially me, feels much like celebrating. There's no reason to; but we're attempting to do it anyway.

Right now, I'm sitting in the living room, facing my parents. To my left are the newly-weds to be, Maddie and Greg. To my right, stands the fireplace. This holds a picture of my twin sister, a poor substitute of the maid of honor.

She's supposed to be here, during the meeting, not me. I have no official part in the wedding. I'm just a guest; part of the bride's family.

They're, we're, supposed to be laughing, celebrating, discussing more wedding… stuff. It appears Maddie has her heart set on marrying in our barn. We're supposed to making final decisions on how to make it more people friendly. Instead, we're holding a different kind of meeting altogether. How long the wedding should be postponed.

My father wants to wait until we find Lizzy. Greg wants to set a date; three weeks after the original wedding is supposed to take place. Maddie's caught in the middle; and both my mother and I are trying to keep out of that one.

I find a way when I hear a knock on the door. I get up quickly and practically run to the door; but before I get there my grandmother stops me and shoos me away. "Go back to the meeting Jonathan. They need you in there. I know it's hard; but do it for your sister." She lectures before answering the door for me.

I do as she says while trying to decide if I'm amused or slightly irritated. I swear Martha Kent is lying about being human and finding my dad in a cornfield. She's been cooking, baking, managing children, lots of children, and between all of that, she's still able to catch me trying to sneak off, read my mind, make me feel guilty, and then send me on my way? Humans can't do that.

As soon as I take my place in "the meeting" again, all eyes turn toward me, making my gut twist into knots. I know this can't be good.

"What do you think, Johnny?" Maddie asks.

Johnny. She and my sister, Lizzy, are the only ones who still call me that. It must be a big sister thing. Everyone else has decided that I'm too old for the nickname. Everyone else calls me Jonathan or John; everyone except Auntie Lois of course. She still calls me Little Fella.

I take a deep breath and think about how I should answer. I'm not going to pretend I don't know she's asking me whether or not she should wait for my sister to come home before she gets married. But I do need to decide how I should answer without sounding biased; because I agree with my father. We _should_ wait for my sister to come home. It's not like she's dead. She's missing. I believe we just have to find the right spot at the right time. It can be done.

It will be done.

"What does Mom say?"

"She's neutral," Maddie answers for her.

I look at my mother. She's holding my dad's hand; squeezing it tight. Her back is straight, rigid. Tense. She's not neutral. She wants to wait until we find Lizzy. She just doesn't want to come between Maddie and Greg. And there's no doubt in my mind that there would've been an argument between the couple. I can tell by the way Greg's sitting. Much like my mother; his back is straight and tense. His jaw is set. He's angry. In a way, I don't blame him. He's older than Maddie; ten years her senior. He's also a cop. He's probably used to "cases" such as my sister's and believes if she isn't found within the month, she probably won't be found at all. He's just being realistic.

But realistic doesn't work on my family. I wish he knew that. It's not Maddie's decision to tell him about our family and our secrets; but it _is_ her decision to tell him about herself. If she would've told him about herself and he was able to keep that secret, we'd have been able to work him into the family secret slowly but surely. Then he wouldn't be so doubtful about finding the daughter of Superman.

"Then what do you say?" I finally answer.

She shakes her head and shrugs. Her way of saying she's neutral as well; but it's a lie. She knows what she wants; but she's too afraid of upsetting either her fiancé, or my father. So, she's made me the tiebreaker.

Lucky me.

I like Greg. We all do. If we didn't, he wouldn't have gotten this far with our…whatever you call a girl, woman, who's a family friend but feels more like a big sister.

He's a nice guy. He treats Maddie well. I even believe he loves her. But something's gonna be put to the test right here and now, because I can't agree with him. I tell everyone we should wait for Lizzy.

My dad doesn't hide the look of pride, relief and joy on his face. Mom and Maddie try their best to. Mom's much better at it than Maddie…unfortunately for Maddie. As a cop, Greg's trained to read people pretty well. Even if she had done a wonderful job at hiding her relief to my answer, Greg would've still seen it on her face.

He asks to be excused. Maddie follows after him.

I stand up and walk over to my parents, glad the meeting is over. My mother excuses herself and walks upstairs, following behind Maddie and Greg. She's probably going to play peacemaker.

"So, what do you think of Greg?" I ask my father.

This is their first time meeting; their first impressions of each other. Dad dressed down, jeans and a t-shirt. Confident enough to be comfortable.

Greg is well-dressed, obviously an attempt at making a good impression. My father might've enjoyed that.

"He's old," Dad answers immediately.

I smile. If that's the first thing to come out of his mouth, it probably means there was nothing else he could find wrong with the man.

They have his blessing.

"He's your age," I answer.

Dad grimaces. Either he's offended that I called him old, or he can't imagine someone his age marrying a "baby." Not that Maddie's a baby; and not that he views all 24 year olds as babies, he just can't seem to think of Maddie as woman yet. He still sees a little girl when he looks at her.

"I'm gonna go sneak some cookies," he tells me; clearly changing the subject. And I let him. Despite the fact that he won against Greg, I know he's having a hard time with this whole wedding thing. Even if Lizzy wasn't missing, this would still be hard for him.

I go upstairs. I'd love to sneak cookies with my father too; but there are so many people roaming around the house, People I'd rather not see. All family and Justice League affiliated; but that only makes today worse. I'd rather be around complete strangers.

I pass by the bathroom completely before I realize someone is crying inside. Not just anyone either; my mother. I wish she wouldn't because I want to help; but there's nothing I can do for her. The only thing that would make her feel better is having my sister here.

I back track a little, tempted to knock on the door and ask if she's alright. I don't give in to the temptation though. If she was alright, she wouldn't be crying, and if she wanted company she wouldn't have locked herself in the bathroom.

I take a step forward, then another, leaving my mother to grieve and approaching yet another problem; Maddie and Greg…in my sisters' room, arguing.

Technically, I'm not eavesdropping. They're loud enough for me to hear and I haven't paused on my way to them just for the purpose of listening; but I feel like I'm walking in on something I shouldn't hear anyway.

Greg is upset. And he's making Maddie upset. I can hear that she's practically in tears.

He thinks Maddie knew my father wouldn't like him; that I wouldn't agree to the marriage while my sister is missing; that she doesn't even _want_ to marry him and is using my family as a scapegoat. He claims he could see it in her face when I announced we should wait for my sister.

Maddie's arguing that she loves him, that what he's thinking is not the case at all.

I can't help but to get angry; but the more rational side of me calms me down. Maybe if I was in his shoes I would feel the same way. Maybe he just needs to understand where we're coming from, how odd, not to mention disrespectful, it would be to the family to even consider getting married while Maddie's pseudo sister is missing.

"Excuse me, Greg," I interrupt.

"What?" he practically snaps. Lucky for him, I'm not Andrew. Andrew wouldn't have tolerated that. I've been described as more laid back, so I live up to that, in this moment, though I don't feel much up to it.

"Maddie, can I talk to Greg for a minute?"

Relief again. She gives me the look and hurries out of the room. On her way out, she touches my shoulder and whispers thank you. It's another reminder that I'm nothing like Andrew. If I was, she wouldn't have left me alone with her fiancé after he'd just yelled at her. She would be afraid he'd end up in the hospital; not with major injuries, maybe just a mild concussion and a few stitches. Still, it's more than what she wants for the love of her life.

"My dad thinks you're old," I start off.

There's a small twitch in his jaw; amusement, anger, both…I don't know.

"That's all," I continue. "That's the only thing he could find wrong with you."

"Am I supposed to feel better?"

"Yes."

He raises his eyebrows at me, as if he can't believe I had the guts to answer honestly. I really think the sooner he learns about us Kents the better for this one. He's a cop. As a cop, I don't think he's used to the way we're treating him. He'd understand we're not being disrespectful if he knew what we could do; if he knew who our father is; if he knew that Superman is the one walking his soon-to-be wife to be down the aisle. Not just some farmer/reporter for the Daily Planet.

"If Maddie didn't want to marry you, she wouldn't have brought you to our father." I tell him, knowing Maddie's not my father's daughter, not even close; but it might be easier for Greg if he felt we were more family than friends. "And if Dad didn't like you for Maddie, you wouldn't be marrying her. He'd make sure of it."

His eyebrows lift even higher. I know he wants to challenge me. Tell me that's not true; that my father wouldn't be able to stop him from marrying Maddie if he wanted to; but I interrupt him. I'm not here to argue with him. He's already got permission to marry Maddie, in our barn. It's done.

"Give my parents a little more time. Give Maddie more time. I understand that you think if we haven't found Lizzy a month from now there's a good chance we won't find her at all. Those are odds you deal with all the time because you're an officer of the law; but to my parents and Maddie, when you mention setting a date, it sounds like you've given up hope of finding Lizzy already."

He goes quiet, thinking about what I've said, and I leave him to think.

I head downstairs, listening quickly for the sound of my mother crying in the bathroom; but I don't hear a thing. She's not in there.

That's good.

I don't make it downstairs without encountering anyone, as I was hoping I would. It was stupid of me to hope such a thing in the first place. The house is infested with visitors.

Lucky for me, I meet Victor Stone first. He's one of the easiest people to talk to.

"Jonathan, how are you holding up?"

"Fine."

My answer is short, but he won't take offense. He's not a man of very many words. Like I said, he's one of the easiest people to talk to.

He nods his head at me, but doesn't press. What else is there to say besides "I'm sorry about your sister?"" It's been said one too many times already anyway.

"Have you seen my goddaughter zipping around her somewhere?"

I smile automatically. It's always my first response to any mention of my youngest sister.

"She's probably with your wife."

I note the way Uncle Victor tenses up a little when I mention Aunt Lucy. He's up to something.

"Don't tell me you got Noley a "present.""

"That obvious, huh?" he sighs.

I haven't had a good laugh in a while; but I do so now. Uncle Victor's not so good with kids. He can't even have kids as he's mostly machine and computer; but Aunt Lucy wanted to be Noley's godmother to sort of fill that void; so, he kinda got drafted into being Noley's godfather. Not that he doesn't love Noley, he just doesn't get her. He would've done better with a goddaughter like Lizzy. Lizzy's real easy to deal with. You buy her a book and she hugs you like you gave her two million dollars and a pony; whereas Noley's got the attention span of a gnat. Anything you give her has to be so creative, so inventive, and so rare, in order for her to appreciate it. In other words, you've got to have imagination and love vibrant colors. Uncle Victor has and loves neither. So, he's had to resort to inventing things for her to play with. Things that might be a little dangerous for human children to play with; which actually cause quite a few arguments with his wife.

I rush passed him, eager to see what he's invented this time, and how my aunt will react. I can hear him follow behind me reluctantly, boots dropping down heavily on each step he takes; but I know it's an act. He's trying to cheer me up. His wife doesn't scare him _that _much.

I hear gunshot, and I rush even faster; but this time out of fear for the visitors. But my aunt stops me. Not with words, but with the look on her face as she rushes past me. She's angry, pissed off even. Not scared.

"A gun that shoots fireworks Victor!"

"She likes it," he rebuttals.

"I'm sure Noley would like an Uzi too; are you gonna get her one for Christmas!"

"Maybe," he answers back defiantly. He sounds more like a pouting kindergartener.

I shake my head and continue on outside. I wanna see Noley shoot fireworks more than I want to see Aunt Lucy yell at her husband. I've seen that a million times. Her sister does it to her husband too. It must be a Lane thing.

I almost make it outside. I can see a crowd out back standing a quite a few paces behind Noley and Dad as they shoot the fireworks together for appearance sakes. Wouldn't want Greg to think our family is irresponsible with children. He'd never respect us.

I glance behind myself, I'm not even sure why; but I suddenly get the feeling I'm being watched; and when I do, I see someone who's not supposed to be here.

I know about his visit to Casey when she was at the beach a few days ago. She told me.

I know about his visit to Andrew that same day. He told us about the strange medallion and the flashbacks. And thanks to Kara, we know that it was Mor-El's journal; but what I don't get is why this boy would have the nerve to show up here, in my home. I've been looking for him as well as my sister. I have a feeling he'll lead me to her.

I rush at him. He runs away. I was expecting that. My brother and sister inform me that he's strong and fast, just like us. And the fact that he was in possession of Kryptonian artifacts, and just so happened to be at the same place at the same time as my siblings makes him suspicious.

I catch up to him not to far away; just far away enough to be out of sight; but only because he's stopped abruptly and has turned to face me, arms crossed over his chest.

I don't feel much like playing games. I don't stop until I run his back into a tree, lifting him straight into the air by his collar.

"Where's my sister; tell me!" I yell at him.

He reaches behind himself and pulls a bit of his shirt up while looking behind himself as well. Then I watch in disbelief as he sighs when he sees his shirt has been damaged. There are holes in it; big ones.

Who the hell does this guy think he is?

He turns back, looking down at me and places his hands on top of mine, trying to pry himself lose. I let him go, letting him drop to the ground. Hard.

He gets up and brushes himself off slowly, and carefully, trying to get every bit of dirt off of himself. I know it's for show; but I still have an intense urge to jack him up again.

I can't do that, no matter how bad I want to. Rationally, I know he's here for a reason. When he visited Casey, he helped Casey realize she needed to take Lizzy's disappearance seriously. When he visited Andrew, he gave him a journal that belonged to Mor-El. It hasn't proved much help yet, and I don't know if it ever will; but still, I can't help but to believe he's visiting me for a reason as well.

"What is it with you Kents and your bad tempers?"

"What do you want?" I cut him off.

He raises an eyebrow; but other than that, he doesn't stall before telling me that he needs something out of my house.

It's my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. He can't possibly be asking _me _for a favor.

"And if I don't get it for you?"

"You won't find your sister. Well, you might; but maybe more like later than sooner, and maybe not in the same condition you last saw her in. Remember, she was _breathing _the last time you"-

I lose my temper and punch him. It feels good. Real good.

I do it again, or I try to anyway; but he catches my fist.

"You Kents really need anger management; but I'm sure you'd rather have Mosey back. Wouldn't you?"

I wince a little at the name "Mosey," but other than that, I manage to calm down a little.

"Where is she?"

"Don't know yet, but there's something Jor-El hid in your house that I need in order to get her back."

My eyes widen. Who is this guy? How does he know Jor-El?

"You're one of the smart Kents. Mosey's told me all about you; how you like to think things through before jumping to conclusions. Well think about this. You don't know if you should trust me; but tell me, why would I try to do anything, here and now, with your whole family not even a quarter of a mile away? I know I'm strong; but I also know I'm not strong enough to take on all of you and all those justice leaguers."

He has a point. Or maybe it's wishful thinking on my part. Maybe I want my sister back so bad I'm willing to do anything to get her home.

"It's probably best you don't tell anyone what you're doing when you go in there. I don't think your father trusts me."

'_And for good reason,_' I remind myself.

"Jonathan, if you tell anybody what you're doing, not only could you jeopardize this task, but I'll leave. I mean it. It won't hurt me to turn my back on her."

I stare him in the eyes. They're so dark, so intense. How could anybody trust a guy with eyes like that?

But I do. They're the same color as my sister's eyes. I want her back. If that means taking a chance and trusting this douchebag, then I'm willing to do it.

Please God, let me be right to do this.

"What do you want me to get for you?"

He smiles at me, pats my chest; "There's a good man," he says and I almost break his fingers; but I hold my temper in check.

"There's a book"-

"A book, hidden by Jor-El, I know. Where is it hidden?" I interrupt him; rushing him. The sooner we get this over with, the better.

"It's not like a "book" book. It's more or less like the relic I gave your brother. It fits in the palm of your hand." His answering tone is just a serious as mine. He's done playing games.

He shows me a piece of paper. On it is a drawing of this _book _I'm supposed to be looking for.

I recognize it and I know exactly where it is. I'd forgotten about it until now; but I found it once, hidden behind a makeshift cupboard in our living room. I was maybe seven or eight when I happened across it; I reached in to touch it; but a there was a voice in my head, telling me "not yet."

I closed the cupboard, ran away and didn't think about the weird pendant again. Despite our many abilities, hearing voices isn't ever good thing.

I nod my head. I can still back out, refuse to help this boy. My gut's telling me I should get it for him. My parents have always taught me to go with my gut feeling; but what if it's wrong this time. What if it's not even a gut feeling, just desperation?

I take a deep breath. '_Gut feeling,_' I decide, before rushing into the house and getting the book. I'm in and out of there quickly; I hear no voices, I see no one, and no one sees me.

I hold the book up for him and I watch him closely. He doesn't look particularly excited about getting it; not like he's going to use it to destroy the world as I know it. He doesn't even say thank you as he takes it from me. If anything, he looks a bit _resigned_; almost as if he wishes I didn't give it to him.

Then he runs off. I didn't expect him to stay; but now that he's gone, I can't help but to feel as if I made the wrong decision.

I close my eyes, thinking about my sister; missing her more than I've ever missed her over the past few days. She should be here with me; today especially.

"Happy Birthday, Lizzy," I whisper.

I don't expect an answer. But I swear I hear her voice scream "_Kal-El!"_

That doesn't make much sense. Why would Lizzy call Dad that? I'm imagining her voice because I want her back so bad.

"_Daddy!"_

I hear again. I don't think I'm imaging it this time.

I rush back to the back of the house, where Noley's still shooting off her fireworks.

"Noley! Dad! Stop!" I yell.

They stop immediately.

"Jonathan, what's"-

"Shh Dad, Listen!" I cut him off.

He stops talking immediately.

My heart feels like it's going to beat right out of my chest as I wait for the voice again. What if it doesn't come again? What if I imagined it?

"_Daddy! Daddy, please!"_

My dad takes off; Andrew takes off, Kara, Casey, everybody.

I didn't imagine her.

We're going to find her. We're bringing her home.

I take off.


	18. Chapter 18

**Nakala: **Thanks! I'm glad you liked Jonathan. I wasn't sure I'd have as much fun writing him as I did Andrew and Noley; but I did.

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**The fallen sky: **Lol. I think you misunderstood me. I didn't mean anything by "buying" my explanation. I just meant that when I usually give an answer as to why someone did what they did, you usually have a, "Well that makes sense but that still doesn't give so-and-so the right," type of answer; and this time you didn't. Ergo the "Yay me!" moment.

And yes, it was Lizzy and Jonathan's birthday; probably why Chloe locked herself in the bathroom for a minute. I imagine that's gotta be hard and I figured as a mother of a missing daughter she'd cry if said daughter wasn't home on her birthday.

I'm so glad you're having so much fun guessing the outcome; but I'm still not telling;)

**Dizzy78: **Thanks! Yeah, I was being lazy, so I put Victor and Lucy together. If I hadn't, I might have had to make up a wife and child for Victor and a husband and child for Lucy. This way, I saved myself from having to create four OCs. I know a lot of people think I do good with OCs; but I seriously don't feel like making too many more.

**Shonnia22: ** Lol. I'm so glad you like that Jonathan is so laid back; and I'm really glad you like the Lucy and Victor pairing. I figured I'd get into trouble for that one; but at the same time I kinda didn't care too much because I_ really _didn't feel like being creative enough to make more OCs.

**Youmakedaddysicklover: **Lol. Hello to you too! Um, I honestly don't know if there are many more future Clois kid fics. Um, I read one a couple of years ago called "Past Imperfect." I don't remember a lot about it. I just remember it was about a Clois kid being sent to the past by accident. She was young too, maybe about Jo'an's age. Maybe a little younger even. If you haven't read it yet, I think you'll like it. As for "You Make Daddy Sick," I _do _plan on finishing it eventually. Lol. I kinda forgot about how much you guys liked that one. Thanks for reminding me.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I remember learning about the Stockholm syndrome in school. I remember thinking it was the creepiest mental sickness ever; easily surpassing schizophrenia or the bipolar. I mean, why would _anyone_ become loyal to their captors, even fall in love with them? I didn't buy the textbook explanation about how the victims mistook their captive's lack of abuse for acts of kindness.

I mean, Really? I understood children were gullible; but they really expected us to buy _that_?

I even remember Mrs. Sheldon making us take turns reading out loud about Mary McElroy, a twenty-five year old woman who was kidnapped; taken strait from her bathtub in her father's home. Well, not taken strait from the tub, we read she was allowed to dry off and dress first.

I'm surprised we didn't have to write a book report on her. The whole incident took place right there in Kansas. Then again, the kidnapping _did_ take place May 27, 1933. There's a good chance there isn't much _to _read about it other than the fact that Mary was a judge's daughter, so ransom had been asked; about 60,000 I believe. That was a lot for the 1930's; but then the ransom was negotiated down to 30,000 dollars before Mary's father paid; and Mary was released 29 hours later.

To make a long story short, her captors were caught, tried, convicted; and Mary was so broken up about it that she had several nervous breakdowns before taking her life several years later.

I couldn't imagine doing that. I couldn't imagine pleading with the judge on my kidnappers' behalf just because they didn't hurt me; just because they gave me flowers before they let me go. I couldn't imagine writing a letter to the governor, begging him not to give Walter McGee the death penalty; which was death by hanging back then. Well, maybe I could. I'm not too keen on any death penalties. But I couldn't imagine writing a suicide letter before shooting myself in the head; one that said, and I hope I remember it right but I'm positive it said: "My four kidnappers are probably the four people on earth who don't consider me an utter fool. You have your death penalty now, so please give them a chance. Mary."

I remember feeling sorry for Mary; thinking maybe she wasn't right in the head before she was taken. If it were me, I'd still remember they chained me to the wall in some basement the way she obviously forgot.

Now, I'm struggling. I _know_ the woman down here in the basement with me right now isn't Miss Morgan. I _know_ she's actually Brainiac, a highly intelligent, evolving, Kryptonian computer. She, _he_, told me so. But still…there are times when I want to forget. Times when it's just me and her, and I'm lying on my stomach, missing my mom, my dad, Noley, Casey, Johnny, Andrew. At these times I'm usually crying and she's sitting down on the bed beside me, rubbing my back and whispering words of comfort the same exact way Miss Morgan would do if I was hurting.

She, _he_, surprised me when he did it the first time. I expected him to be more robotic, colder; like the way he was when I first got here.

Now, I fully understand he's trying to brainwash me. He keeps telling me about Krypton; about the way it was. I expect him to tell me only good things in order to try and get me to believe what Zod's doing is right. That to have a new Krypton would be better than the old earth as I know it; but he doesn't. He tells me the truth; about whatever I ask; and mostly I ask about Mor-El, my great aunt from krypton. Zod's first wife. I look just like her. That's why Zod wants to marry me. I know because Brainiac knows everything about her. He's possessing her right now, and because of that he's got access to all her memories.

He hasn't told me her story in any particular order. One day he can be telling me about her life on Krypton. A few hours later he could be telling me about her adventures here on earth; but I've heard enough to be able to piece the story together myself.

I know she came to earth when she was young, maybe in her early twenties. Her father sent her here as some sort of rite of passage. And I know that she was bombarded with images the second she set foot here. Some were pleasant, but most were disturbing, confusing. It didn't take her long to figure out that the images were small glimpses into the future. Back home, on Krypton, she had good instincts. Gut feelings that were a bit stronger than that of the average Kryptonian; but here on earth, where the sun multiplies the Kryptonians' strengths, those gut feelings turned into full-fledged precognition.

She realized it when she saw someone die, a blonde boy of about eighteen, give or take a year. Then, after wandering around Kansas for a bit, she spotted him…he was alive and well. Well, not completely well. He was working on his home, on the roof; just like in her vision but he hadn't fallen and broken his neck yet. And she didn't give him a chance to.

She called him down, asked for a drink; lied and told him that she was lost and tired. He did as she asked almost immediately and really clumsily. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he nearly fell trying to hurry up and accommodate her because he thought she was pretty. But she wasn't thinking about that. She was afraid he was going to have that accident anyway. That what her father had always taught her was true. Everyone has a destiny. It can't be changed.

But _his_ was changed. That boy did not die like he was "supposed" to. She made a different destiny for him; and it got her to thinking she could make a new destiny for herself too.

Mor-El stayed with the boy and his family, which only consisted of him, his younger sister, and his mother as his father was off serving in the Vietnam War. She stayed for a little while, no longer than a month; and introduced herself as Mora. Imagine my surprise when I learned the boy's name was Cranston Loveleigh.

I can't say Mor-El fell in love with Cranston. I can't figure that out by the way Brainiac tells her stories. I mean, she was dating, or being "courted" by Zod at the time; but I know she didn't leave on her own accord. Nim-El, one of her younger brothers, was sent to fetch her because she didn't go back home when she was supposed to. She didn't _want _to go back home when she was supposed to. She'd gotten attached to the boy and his family; his younger sister especially. Or maybe I'm just projecting. The young girl, Cynthia, was like a twelve year old version of Noley.

Mor-El left without saying goodbye; because she knew her brother was coming for her and she met him in the caves. They left together. He didn't so much as ask her why she hadn't returned, or what took so long. He just took her home.

I couldn't help but to be reminded of Johnny when I heard that part. I nearly cried as well because I missed him so much; but there was Miss Morgan, right beside rubbing my arm and telling me not to cry because everything was going to be okay. And in a moment of weakness I closed my eyes and let her comfort me as if she, _he,_ truly was her.

Yes, I realize it's twisted and creepy the way I let him treat me. And the way he tells me these stories, it's almost like when Miss Morgan would tell me stories when I was younger. His voice is hers still, so when he wants to, he can sound quite comforting and maternal. And when he sits beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulder, it takes all the strength I have not to just lay my head against her shoulder because_ rationally_ I know what's going on. I know he's not Miss Morgan; but, he looks just like her; and he's acting just like her. I can't bring myself to hate her, _him._

And Zod, I haven't seen him since I was brought here a week ago. Miss Morgan, _Brainiac_, doesn't allow him down here to see me. Probably because he doesn't trust him to keep his hands off of me until I become a "woman." I know Brainiac isn't protecting me. He's protecting himself, his custom, and the way of life he wants to enforce upon the earth. But the way Zod was looking at me; and the way Brainiac keeps him away from me because of that…I don't know. I just _feel _like Morgan's protecting me; even though I _know _Brainiac is not.

And at the same time, I can't help but to get mad at Mor-El. What the heck was my aunt thinking when she married him, Zod? Even after the way everything's turned out; even after the way she planned _all_ of this; I still don't get it. I still don't get what the point was; what the endgame is.

I mean, she knew what was going to happen. She knew what Zod was going to do; what he was capable of; but she still married him…probably because she still loved him; but I'm hoping it was because she thought she'd be able to change his destiny the way she was able to change Cranston's destiny.

But she couldn't change Zod, nor detour the path he'd set himself on; no matter how hard she tried. She realized that a few years later. But not before she'd gotten herself pregnant.

So, she went back to earth, back to Cranston, and she told him everything about herself; her heritage, her abilities, _everything._ Of course he didn't believe her at first; and that disbelief turned into fear when she proved it by picking him up, throwing him across his field and zipping over to catch him.

Then, the fear was washed away by guilt when a young woman approached them. Cranston's wife, Mary.

Luckily, Mor-El wasn't caught demonstrating her abilities to Cranston; and she was invited inside to have some lemonade. She didn't want to stay. She'd only gone back for one reason; well, two reasons. She had a devastating vision concerning Cranston and his wife; and she had an even more disturbing favor to ask of him.

She waited until she'd gotten to know Mary a little before asking her for a private moment with her husband. I gotta say, Mor-El had a lot of nerve, and apparently Mary thought so too because she hesitated with her answer. Cranston had to reason with his wife, tell her it'd be okay before getting up and leaving with Mor-El.

They didn't walk far, but they went far enough to avoid any eaves dropping from the wife.

Then, Mor-El delivered the bad news. She told Cranston his wife was expecting, at that very moment there was a child in her womb; but before he could get excited about her news, or even register said news, she told him that she saw the death of his wife, as well as the death of their child. And what made it worse, is the fact that they didn't die together in her vision. They weren't in a car accident, or victims of a burglary. Mary died first, during childbirth, and their son, a little blonde haired boy just like Cranston, died six months later because of complications with his heart.

Cranston didn't want to believe Mor-El, and my aunt left without asking him of that favor. She had enough insight to know not to ask him for anything after dropping a bombshell like that.

She went back months later; she had to sneak out because she was fairly far along. Jor-El, my grandfather, and Nim-El's twin brother, helped sneak her out. That part made me smile; just imagining Jor-El sneaking his huge, about to pop any day now, pregnant sister through portals and caves. I can imagine Andrew doing that for me. He would love the rebelliousness of it all.

Mor-El sought out Cranston once again, with the help of her brother. They found him, still in Kansas, but no longer in Smallville. He'd moved to Metropolis, because there were better doctors there for his son. His wife had already died; and his son was dying, just like Mor-El predicted.

He wasn't too happy to see her because of that; but she still told him she had a favor to ask of him. I can imagine he felt as if Mor-El was a cold hearted woman; that she had to be in order to ask him of a favor just after his wife died and while he was caring for his dying son. And when I was told she asked to trade sons, _I_ nearly went into cardiac arrest. I can't even imagine how _Cranston_ felt about it; and Brainiac didn't go into details. I just know that it happened. My grandfather was against it. He didn't think it was such a good job to leave a Kryptonian child, his first nephew, on earth with a human; but he helped her deliver her son right there in Cranston's home a few hours later anyway; and he and Mor-El left her son there on earth and took Cranston's son with them. Mor-El named him Col-Zod. Cranston named her son Charlie.

Three years later, Col-Zod died. He lived six times longer on Krypton than he would have on earth.

His father, Dru-Zod, learned of the news by message. He was away at the time, enduring what I can only describe as basic training because he'd joined the military.

He couldn't go home; not even after her heard how devastated his wife was and how she was beside herself with grief and had taken her own life because of it. That was the rumor Mor-El told her youngest brother, Zor-El, to spread anyway. But first, she made him help her disappear.

I have no idea what the book of Rao is; but I was told Mor-El "borrowed" it from her father's chambers. Then she told Zor-El about a desolate plane she wished for him to send her to, that one day Jor-El would learn about it and it would be a place for prisoners all over the galaxy. Zor-El wanted no part of that. He didn't want to send his sister to the place she described to him; but she told him it would keep her safe. He didn't understand how safe it could keep her. It sounded more dangerous than anything, or anyone, he'd ever heard of.

He reminded me of Casey in a way. Jonathan wouldn't have even thought about it _and _he would have told my parents; Andrew would call me crazy. Maybe he wouldn't tell on me; but he most definitely would keep an eye on me to make sure I didn't do anything "stupid." But I could get Casey to do it. We don't seem to get along very well; but if I told her to send me to a harsh planet, one where criminals would be sent to in the future, she'd absolutely refuse at first. She's smart, so she'd try to reason with me by telling me that I'd be in danger there; that the criminals would want me dead just because I was a member of the house of El; the way Zor-El tried to reason with _his _sister. But then, Mor-El had an answer to that as well. She asked her brother to strip her of her physical form, that way she wouldn't be recognized by anyone.

If it were me, my brothers wouldn't have bought that. They still would've kept me from doing what I felt I needed to do; but after a rebuttal like that, Casey would've done it. She probably still wouldn't want to do it; but she still would've done it for me; just as Zor-El did it for Mor-El.

He stripped her of her physical form and sent her to "The Phantom Zone" as Brainiac called it.

Years later, my dad's born, my mom's born, oh, and speaking of my mom; Cynthia, Cranston's younger sister, is my mom's grandmother. Yeah, Cynthia had a daughter and named her Moira in memory of my aunt, Mor-El. Talk about a small world.

Then, even _more _years later, my dad set Mor-El free from The Phantom Zone, Mor-El took over their best friend's body; and now here I am, sixteen years later after her escape, stuck with her ex-husband and a walking computer; and she's, _he's_, staring at me kinda funny right now.

It makes me uneasy, until he says something that turns that feeling of unease into a feeling of complete nausea.

"You're a woman," he announces. He's been checking my sheets and clothing, my _white_ sheets and clothing, periodically since I got here. And this is what he's been waiting for.

I look down at my sheets, at the stain there, in terror and utter disgust. Like my body betrayed me. It has, and on my birthday too.

Brainiac tilts my chin a little, and he kisses my forehead. I think he was trying for another Morgan-like maternal moment; but it doesn't work this time. It hardly worked before; but it definitely doesn't work this time. I'm too afraid; because I know what this means.

I'm going to marry Zod today.

Brainiac leaves the room, most likely to notify Zod; and I'm down here by myself. I wish I was strong enough to endure the blue kryptonite. I'd try to make a run for it again. But I know from experience that I won't even get past the top step without passing out and falling back down the stairs. There's just too much of it.

So I start to pray. Well, I've never been too religious; but I start bargaining with _someone_. I basically promise to grow up if I make it out of this before the honeymoon. I promise I'll stop acting like a baby. I'll do my own hair, I'll call my mom "Mom," like all the other Kent kids, I'll stop being so shy, I'll stop being so clingy, I'll stop making my parents worry about me. I'll stop letting everyone run over me so that they _can _stop worrying about me. I'll stop being so dependent on them. I'll stop being a problem, period. I'll be a normal girl; as normal as any Kent can be. Just please, don't let me marry Zod.

But the praying doesn't work. Not right away. Brainiac comes back down. He undresses me and puts me in the tub. It's not really a tub. It's more or less a huge bucket in the corner of my room, this basement.

When I'm clean, he dresses me, though it's not really clothing he's putting on me. it's more like a really long white sheet that he just wraps around my body a couple times until I'm no longer naked.

When he's done, he starts on my hair. I really wish he wouldn't. My mom is the only one who's ever done my hair for me, not counting the time Miss Morgan cut it. I'd rather do my hair myself right now; but I know Brainiac won't let me, and even if he would, I don't know _how _to do my hair the way he's doing it. There are so many braids and twists and pins and rolls, it would take me _days _to figure out where to begin. But it takes the computer about twenty minutes.

In fact, the whole process of getting me ready takes about an hour and a half. It doesn't feel like it. It feels like only five minutes have gone by.

Then Zod is coming downstairs, and he's smiling at me.

I can't smile back. I just stare at him. He's wearing the same thing as me, a tunic of sorts; but his is black. It suits him.

He approaches me slowly, not stopping until he's standing right in front of me, totally invading my personal space. I nearly think of how much more of my space will be invaded soon; but I brush the thought away. I'm not in denial per se. I just don't want to think about what's in store for me.

I feel Brainiac's hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm. Then he tells me to kneel. I don't do it immediately so Brainiac pushes down on my shoulder; and though I try to resist, Brainiac is much stronger than me; especially since I haven't been out in the son in a while.

He makes me kneel before Zod. And Zod in turn kneels before me before taking my hand in his.

I have a stubborn moment and snatch my hand out of his. I expect him to hit me because of it; but he doesn't. Brainiac does and Zod grabs my hand again.

I wish Zod hit me instead of Brainiac. He still looks like Miss Morgan; and Miss Morgan has never hit me before. There's a feeling of despair that washes over me. I was hoping she, Miss Morgan, would come back. Brainiac told me he has access to all of Mor-El's visions and memories, _all_ of them up until the day he began possessing her.

At first, I thought it was because her thoughts weren't her own anymore; that Brainiac would possess her forever; but he said something to me once that gave me hope. He mentioned not using "this vessel" for much longer. It got me to thinking that maybe Mor-El was just holding back information from him; that she'd seen the future and was fighting him because she didn't want to give him that glimpse into the future. If the future was something that would have pleased Brainiac to see, she would have let him see it right? But if the future didn't turn out so well for Zod and Brainiac, she wouldn't want him to be able to. She'd fight him. At least, that's what I let myself believe. I don't know if I _truly _believed it, or if it was just a coping mechanism of sorts. I just know that I don't know what to think anymore. I _can't_ think of anything past the fact that I don't want to be here anymore.

I snatch my hand out of Zod's again. I know I'm going to get hit again; but I don't care. I'd rather be beaten to death than to have to marry Zod.

Brainiac raises her hand. I don't even flinch.

"Grandmother!"

I turn toward the door. I'm not the only one, Zod turns as well. There, in the doorway is Jeremiah. I'm so happy to see him, I don't try to figure out how he knew I was here, or think about the fact that he just called Miss Morgan grandmother.

I don't even realize right away that Miss Morgan is indeed "back."

I'm on the stairs, just a couple of steps away from the top, and Jeremiah is coming down to meet me.

He picks me up quickly, and I turn to look at Miss Morgan and Zod. They're fighting each other; and from the looks of it, Miss Morgan is losing. I can't say that I'm surprised. She's physically fighting Zod; but I'm pretty sure she's fighting Brainiac on a mental level as well. She's a very strong Kryptonian to be able to do that; but I don't know how much longer she'll last.

My thoughts get interrupted by the intense headache I get when subjected to blue kryptonite. In the midst of my excitement, I completely forgot the doorframe was covered in the stuff.

I grit my teeth, close my eyes, and hold on tightly to Jeremiah; but the tears still come. It hurts that much.

When I'm away from the kryptonite, I feel better instantly.

Jeremiah puts me down, says happy birthday, and turns to go back into the basement.

I grab his arm. He can't go down there. He's strong, and he's fast; but he's only a quarter Kryptonian. I'm sure Charlie, Mor-El's biological son, is Jeremiah's grandfather. I'll ask him about that later; but I won't be able to ask him anything if he goes down there. He'll be killed for sure.

"Let go Mosey," he tells me while trying to pry my fingers loose.

I shake my head. I don't think Mor-El can fight Brainiac much longer. It'll be a full blooded Kryptonian and a Kryptonian computer against him.

"They'll kill you!" I yell.

"You don't think I know that?"

I blink at him.

"I've known since I was twelve."

What is he trying to say? is he trying to say…he can't be saying he's known this to be a part of his future, that he's known this day was coming and that he's supposed to _die _at the hand of the Kryptonians downstairs.

That can't be what he's saying.

"Go home Mosey, Your dad and Kara have exactly 42 seconds to get a hold of some blue K or they'll disappear forever," he tells me before pushing me down.

Jeremiah's a jerk; but pushing me was not really a jerk move. It was the only way he could get me to let go so that he could stupidly walk down to the basement; to his own demise.

I get up quickly. I'm surprised by how naturally using my speed comes back to me, and I grab Jeremiah again.

He's just like Fluffy; his pet snake. We found him when we were little and we took him to show Miss Morgan. We wanted to keep him. Miss Morgan told us he was disgusting. Jeremiah told her he wasn't; that he can't help the way he looks. I chimed in, told her he was probably fluffy on the inside. Miss Morgan laughed at me; but told Jeremiah he could keep the "fluffy" snake. When she asked us what we were going to name him. It took us about two seconds to agree on the snake's name, Fluffy.

Jeremiah's been a real jerk over the last five years. I thought it was because he hated me. It never occurred to me that he knew he'd have to die because of me one day. I would have been bitter if I were in his shoes.

"Dad!" I yell. I can't believe I didn't think to call me father to help sooner.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes at me.

"How many little girls are calling for their dads right now? You'd have better luck if you called for Kal-El. You'd be the only one calling for _him_."

He pushes me again, and quickly runs down into th basement. I follow but I don't get that close. The blue Kryptonite is just too much.

"Kal-El!" I call.

I know my father's not a genie. But when he doesn't come the very second I call him, I feel a little panicky.

"Daddy!" I yell when I hear Jeremiah cry out. I don't care if there are a _million_ girls calling for their dads. I want my daddy.

"Daddy! Daddy Please!" I yell even louder.

I could go home and get him; but I'm too scared to leave Jeremiah alone. I want to make sure he doesn't die.

"Moira!"

My dad. Finally. He's here. He grabs me and holds me close. I try my best not to cry. I'm supposed to tell him to help Jeremiah. I'm supposed to tell him and Kara to hold onto some blue K before they disappear. I don't even know who Kara is; but they've got twelve seconds to do it. It's a good thing there's a whole lot of it not even five feet away.

"Dad, you have to help him, please."

I don't think he's listening to me. He's just holding onto me and I don't think he'll ever let go.

I look over his shoulder. I see my brothers and sisters, all of them but Noley. They're all smiling, happy to see me; even Casey. And then there's a blonde girl; hopefully, she's Kara.

I miss them too; but can't they hear what's going on downstairs?

I sign to Casey the best I can, that she needs to help Jeremiah, and that Dad and Kara have six seconds to hold onto some blue K.

She gets it immediately. So does Johnny, I forgot he taught himself how to sign. They get dad to let go of me and focus on what needs to be done. There'll be plenty of time to catch up.

Once Dad has regrouped, he tells Casey to take me home, immediately. I start to protest. I want to stay and make sure Jeremiah's okay.

But I don't have a choice. Casey's a lot stronger than me at the moment. She grabs me before I can shake my head and tell her no, and then I'm in the US; in Kansas.

I'm home, standing in front of my mother

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

**A/N: **I apologize if any of Mor-El's story didn't flow so well. I tried to ease it in as naturally as I possibly could without cramming it. That was really hard.

Together, the


	19. Chapter 19

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Nakala: **Thank you! And yes, I'm pretty close to the end. Don't be mad. Lol.

**The fallen sky: **Lol. You're so right. I'm definitely still laughing my ass off at you. And yes, Mary McElroy was a real case. I could've made that part up; but I didn't feel like being creative enough. All _my _creativeness went into the Mor-El backstory….which you tried to pick apart, piece by piece, jerk;)

I'll have you know, I'm no "Superman" buff. I barely remember the old movies, never saw the newer ones, and most definitely never read the comics; so forgive me if some of the info was off. Like the fact that Superman was supposed to be more or less highly intelligent like his father, Jor-El. I honestly _never_ knew that; and I would have never guessed with Smallville's Clark. Lol. I think you'll have to agree with me when I say _that_ guy wasn't very bright;)

And I'll agree with you. I don't think Mor-El would've been able to do much to save Zod. I think he was a lost cause from the get-go. Changing Cranston's destiny had been easy. You have a vision about a guy falling off the roof, the easy solution is to get to him before he falls or catch him when he does. You have a vision about the man Zod will become, that's not so easy to change; especially if you don't know how and why he became that way.

As for the other Kryptonian kid; I thought it was possible to do that because of season seven's, episode 10 episode. I don't remember his name, I think it was Dexter or something. Lol. I doubt it was actually "Dexter," He was Kryptonian so it was probably something more like Dex-er, but I'm too lazy to look it up. Anyway, he was a Kryptonian who lived on earth. He was old, like in his 40's, maybe even his 50's, and he wore a blue K bracelet. He'd been on earth for _years_,so I figured I could do it too. So don't blame me, blame the SV writers :P.

You know, I knew you'd be uncomfortable about the whole Lizzy almost becoming Zod's bride thing; but hey, I was trying to be realistic here. Don't get mad at me. Zod's the sick freak, not me. Why do you think I didn't go into detail about the bathing ritual or any of that stuff? I merely grazed over the scene, just to let the readers know what was going on; but I was also vague enough not to creep anyone out. Or at least I tried to be. No one told you to pay so much attention to the details TFS!

I'm sorry about the phantom zone. Like I said, I didn't know much about Superman, so I kinda just looked up "The Phantom Zone" on Wikipedia. I didn't read it all the way through. But I did read the fact that Jor-El _discovered _the place. And I took that to mean it already existed. I also learned that the other form of punishment preceding the Phantom Zone was for criminals to be put in capsules, and launched into suspended animation while wearing a crystal on their forehead that slowly erased their criminal tendencies. Then I looked up Zor-el, seeing how he played a major part in Mor-El's escape, so I could create a different backstory for him as well. Again, I didn't read much. I just got to the part where he was some kind of mad scientist and a fanatic of the "Rao prophecy." I figured that I could make that be why the brothers quarreled; that it would be easy to believe Zor-El went a bit insane after what he had to do to his sister; and when Jor-El discovered the phantom zone and proposed _it _be used instead of the old way because it was more humane and less cost efficient, I figured Zor-El would've gone completely off his rocker. I'm sure he tried to keep anyone from finding the place. What brother would want criminals trapped with his sister, but when Jor-El discovered it anyway, I'm sure Zor-El started to believe he couldn't change fate. No one could. There's much more to his story; but I really have no way of telling it in this story. Not unless I do a chapter from his POV, but seeing how he's all dead and stuff…

Oh, and I _did _remember that there was a device needed to use the book of Rao:P Be patient! Lol. But no, you didn't offend me. There was enough praise in there for me to realize you weren't just being a jerk 'cause ya could. It was what I would call constructive criticism. Which I value as a general rule.

And getting you to finally like Jeremiah, well, not like…more like understand, is a major accomplishment of mine;) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Dizzy78: **Yeah, they're cousins; and the earlier connection was definitely because of the twins.

**Shonnia22: **Thanks! Lol, _adopted_ great uncle. Chlark aren't related by blood, thank god. Oh, and Mor-el took over after Moira was born.

**Southernbelle001: **Thank you! I hope this is soon enough for ya;)

**Anonymous: **Lol. Yes.

**Tadashee: **Thank you, but no, I'm not really much of a Chlollie lover. They're together in the other story because I was following Smallville canon. There will be more stories with Jo'an and her Uncle Ollie, though. Hopefully that's good enough. Sorry.

**Madlenita: **Lol. Of course you want a big happy ending. I'll see what I can do.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

Victor's really outdone himself this time. A gift this grand should be given to Noley on her birthday, or for Christmas; not while we're celebrating the twins' birthdays. But I am grateful for the distraction. I think we all are.

We're all standing outside, watching Clark help her shoot the fireworks. It's not very dark out yet; but the bright colors can still be seen; and the sound is still as loud and distinctive as ever.

I look to my right, then to my left. There are so many people here; so many friends and family members. It's a wonder that they all came today, on a Thursday; and just after many of their children got out of school I might add.

They're all here to celebrate Jonathan's sixteenth birthday; but the small smiles and polite conversations tell me that they're here to support me as well; because it's Moira's birthday as well.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn to face the "tapper." It's Maddie, and she and her fiancé seem to be on friendlier terms, judging by the way her arm is wrapped around his middle and his is wrapped around her shoulder.

"I was wrong," Greg starts. "I wasn't thinking clearly before. We can't get married without the maid of honor; so, we're going to wait until she comes home."

I smile and thank him.

Maddie untangles herself from Greg and it's now me she's intertwined with. She holds me close and tells me we're going to find Lizzy soon. She can feel it.

I don't answer her. I can't. My throat has closed up again and it's taking all that I have of me not to succumb to another crying fit. And just as I begin to fear that I'll lose to the impulse, I hear gasps. Not the kind of "oohs and aws" that have been accompanying the fireworks; different, more alarming, gasps.

Then I hear Greg. He doesn't sound too good. He's stuttering; not making a complete sentence or much sense.

"Did you see…how did…I'm dreaming. I'm drunk. I need to…I gotta, gotta, uh…." is all I listen to him say before I turn toward Clark in alarm.

He's not there. Victor's there, with Noley. He's holding her, tightly. She squirming, wanting to go "too," she keeps saying.

I look around, searching for Jonathan, Andrew, or Casey. I don't see them anywhere. I don't even see Kara.

"Lois!" I call. I'm not very loud. It doesn't matter though. She's not very far.

"They took off," she explains to my right before grabbing me around my waist. Her hold on me is firm; as if she's afraid I'll faint.

I can honestly say that I nearly do.

"Do you think they heard her?" I whisper.

"I hope so," she tells me.

I close my eyes briefly, thinking about my baby. She's sixteen today. It's _her _birthday; but having her back would be the greatest gift anyone's ever given me.

When I open my eyes, she's here, standing in front of me…like magic. I can't even let myself believe she's real.

"Lois," I plead. I've done this so many times before. When Clark went missing sixteen years ago, I saw him everywhere. I dreamed about him constantly. I even sleptwalked, my subconscious never letting me relent on my search for him.

My cousin squeezes my hand. "She's real, Chloe. I can see her too."

"Mom," my daughter chokes out.

I reach out and grab her. I pull her to me with so much force Casey has to balance us so that we both don't fall over. I turn my head to kiss her cheek repeatedly; but she's got her face buried so deep into the crook of my neck that I can barely reach her ear. I could care less. It's my baby's ear. I have no problem kissing it.

She's real.

She's here.

She's okay. My baby's okay.

She's crying, and repeatedly calling for me; but she _is _okay. She _is _home.

I rub her back, tell her that I'm here now and that everything's gonna be just fine. I don't think she's listening to me; I think she's just happy to be home and in my arms again.

I know the feeling. I want to hold on to her forever; but I can't.

"Lizzy!" Noley keeps yelling excitedly. She's been trying to get in between us so she can greet her big sister for a little while now.

I have to make a conscious effort to take a step back. I realize I'm not the only one who may want to greet Moira; she's got Aunts, Uncles, friends; people who have been worried about, and missing, her as well as I have; but there's a part of me that doesn't care. There's a part of me that feels like I'm her mother, I've missed her the most. Everyone else can say hello to her when _I'm _finished welcoming her back home; so, I compromise by taking half a step back; not wanting to separate from Moira, but also wanting to give Noley a little room to hug her sister.

"You're dressed so funny!" Noley exclaims.

I hadn't noticed Moira's strange attire. I was so happy to see her I didn't look past her face. But I look down at Moira at Noley's words now. She_ is_ dressed "funny." And her hair, it's in such a complicated style. Why would her hair be done like that?

"I need a shower," Moira announces quietly before glancing around herself nervously, and then she begins to walk away. Just like that. I still want to talk to her, hug on her, _see_ her. I'm sure her family wants to as well. But something's keeping me from stopping her.

"Lizzy, wait for me," Noley calls. There's nothing holding her back. No sense of foreboding; No gut feeling that something might be wrong. She's too young for that.

I watch Noley run up to her sister; and I watch Moira bend down to speak to her. The conversation is brief; not even lasting five seconds before Noley's nodding her head more solemnly than I've ever seen her do. Moira grabs Noley's face in her hands and places a gentle kiss on her sister's forehead before disappearing into the house.

I look behind myself, at Lois and all those friends and family members Moira neglected to speak too. They're so quiet; their expressions grim at best.

I know it's not because they're offended. They're concerned.

Probably for the same reason I'm concerned.

I take a few steps toward the house, toward Noley. Even though she's walking toward me, she doesn't seem to notice. Her head's down.

Noley's head is never down.

Something's wrong.

"Noley," I call. "What did Lizzy say?"

Noley waits until we're standing right in front of each other before she answers.

"She said I shouldn't be holding onto her right now. She's real dirty and she's gonna take a shower," she shrugs as if it's no big deal; but she _is _Noley. She can never keep her troubling thoughts to herself. "But she doesn't look _that _dirty Mom. She even smells nice; and I hugged her while she was a whole _lotta_ more dirty than _that _before, and she still let me. So why doesn't she want me to hug her now? Doesn't she still like me, Mom?"

I can feel my eyes water. Noley could see that her sister wasn't physically dirty; but she wasn't able to grasp onto the fact that Moira may _feel _dirty.

I can only think of one reason why my daughter would feel dirty; and I don't think I can handle it.

"Chloe, dear."

I feel Martha Kent's hand on my shoulder, and the older woman's touch has always calmed me down some; but there's no calming down for this.

My baby's been hurt. I'm her mother. I'm supposed to protect her from harm; but I didn't.

"Chloe, go on, dear."

Martha again; and she's giving me a gentle shove into the house. I look back at her just as I step inside.

She shoos me away quickly before turning away herself. I swear I saw a tear drop from her chin, but when I hear her speak her voice is strong. She's getting everybody back to the party, instructing Victor to help Noley with her fireworks, commanding Oliver to get a chair and a valium for Greg, making Mia and Casey grab more refreshments for the many, many, children running around the place. She's got over a hundred people under control. I've just got to deal with one.

I take a deep breath, trying to rehearse what I should say, how I should comfort my daughter, and how I could get her to confide in me just in case she wants to keep quiet.

I don't come up with a single idea, but I _am_ here, outside the bathroom door.

It doesn't stop me from entering.

Once I'm here,_ in_ the bathroom, the need to comfort my daughter overpowers the self-doubts I'd been having. I know the right words will come to me.

I nearly speak. I open my mouth and everything; but Moira pulls the curtains aside.

"Mom!" she yells, her eyes wide, her face going red immediately before she snatches up her towel and holds it against herself.

She's hiding from me. I realize she's older; but she's never hidden from me before; not with this much urgency and never with this much _shame_.

She'd probably be more comfortable if I left; but I don't go anywhere. I came for a reason.

"Moira," I start. She's not paying much attention to me. She's too busy securely wrapping her towel around herself.

I approach her and touch her arm.

She still doesn't look up at me. She looks down at my hand, which has got a hold on her arm.

"Moira, look at me please," I beg.

She doesn't look; but she does speak.

"I'm sorry," she says; and before I can tell her she has no reason to apologize, she tells me she shouldn't have run away.

No, she shouldn't have run away; but I can't have her thinking what happened to her was all her fault. She didn't know she was running into a trap. I should have told her all about Lana, Zod, Brainiac; I should've told her everything. But I didn't. I thought I was protecting her. Instead, I put her in danger. I'm the reason she trusted "Lana." It's my fault she got hurt.

"It's my fault you got hurt, not yours." I tell her.

She finally looks up at me; but she's not relieved. Her brows are furrowed. Her eyes are squinted. Then I watch as her eyes widen and a look of dawning comprehension replaces the confused expression she'd been wearing before.

"I didn't get _hurt_, Mom," she says quietly.

I almost let myself breathe a sigh of relief. She may not know what I meant; or she could be lying to me, or she could truly mean what she'd said. That she didn't get hurt.

"But," I attempt. She cuts me off with a "but" of her own.

"But what?" I press.

"I need, um, I need a, um."

"What?" I ask while grabbing both her hands in mine. She's fast freaking me out.

She takes a deep breath and whispers "tampon" on an exhale.

I could really smile. I could genuinely grin, laugh hysterically even. A tampon? That's why she feels dirty! Not because she was forced to take part in a Kryptonian marriage and then forced to consummate said marriage. She's started her cycle.

I hug her; kiss her cheek. I'm tempted to do it again but she mutters "_Mom_" and I remember she needs something from me.

I leave to get it immediately. I practically dance my way out of the bathroom, and I still feel like dancing when I re-enter.

She takes the tampon from me; but she doesn't move to do anything else. She just stares at me. It takes me a few seconds to realize she wants privacy.

I can't _believe _it took me so long to realize she needed privacy. I mean, was I really gonna just stand there the whole time?

I'm downstairs, shaking my head at myself, in just a few seconds. I ran down them, like a young kid. I'm that elated.

"Where is she?"

I look up and smile at my husband. He's not really smiling; but that's okay. He's just anxious to see his daughter.

"In the shower," I answer before linking my arm with his and trying to turn him around. I'm unsuccessful. He doesn't much feel like detouring. He heads for the stairs.

"Clark, she's in the shower. She'll be down soon," I tell him.

He pauses for quite a few before relenting and allowing me to steer him in the opposite direction.

"She's crying," he hisses at me.

I pause. For some reason, I know he's not talking about tears of joy. She's crying because she's sad; hurting.

She's home, safe, why would she be crying?

I have a sudden and horrifying thought. What if she lied to me? What if she _did _get hurt?

"Hey Mom, where's Lizzy?"

I focus my eyes on the stairs, not consciously deciding to ignore my son. I'm not even sure _which _son spoke to me.

"Shower," I whisper. And as if I'm in a sort of trance, I begin to make my way back toward the stairs.

I don't take more than three steps before she appears at the top of the staircase. She's wearing baggy grey sweatpants, and a very loose t-shirt. She's not dressed as if she's happy to be home. She's not dressed as if it's her birthday, therefore making it a day of celebration. She's dressed as if she depressed and doesn't give a damn.

I take another step toward the stairs, toward her; but like Noley just a few minutes ago, she doesn't notice me. Her head's down, she's sniffling, and wiping the corner of her eyes.

"Why so mopey, Mosey?"

I glance behind myself quickly. I already know who it is. I've only ever heard one person call my daughter that before. Heath; no, Jeremiah. That's his name.

I don't take the time to wonder what he's doing here, in my home. My attention's back on my daughter. Her eyes are wide and dry. She's no longer crying.

She continues to come down the stairs, never do her eyes rest on anything, or anyone, other than Jeremiah.

"_Tracker?_" I hear her say, almost as if she can't believe what she's seeing; almost the way I'd whispered Lois's name when Moira appeared before me.

"Don't tell me you really thought I was going to die?" he all but groans.

My eyes can't follow my daughter, she's moved too quickly. One minute she was on the bottom step, the next she's gone and I'm hearing her voice from behind me.

I turn quickly and watch her. She's screaming at the boy, hitting him. Calling him a jerk, telling him she hates him. He just stands there and lets her hit him, probably because he's got enough sense not to hit her back. Not with her whole family here at least.

I look to my husband, confusion written all over my face. He's not looking back at me. He's watching the two kids fight, his arms crossed over his chest.

I turn my attention back onto my daughter.

She's really angry, angrier than I've ever seen her. No, that's not true. I've seen her like this before. The first time I met Jeremiah. Who is this boy that can bring out this side of my daughter?

"Are you done?" he asks her once she begins to relent.

It's a mistake. It makes her angrier and she raises her hand to attack again.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" He yells.

She hits him again, and again, and twice more before pulling him into a very firm hug, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"I hate you," she tells him a couple times.

He doesn't hug her back immediately. He's too busy staring at Clark. It almost looks as if he's wondering if it's okay _to _hug her back. But that can't be right. The Jeremiah I met about a week ago seemed as if he could care less about whether or not he had permission to do _anything_.

Clark gives a curt nod of his head, and Jeremiah hugs my daughter back.

"Where's Miss Morgan?" Mora asks, her arms still wrapped around Jeremiah's neck. It's starting to make feel a little…_edgy_. I'm not sure, but I think she's been hugging him longer than she hugged me.

"Gone." He says.

"Dead?"

"No, just gone," he tells her.

She pulls back. I know she's going to ask where this "Miss Morgan" is if she's not dead, if she's "gone" instead; but he interrupts her.

"You're really gonna celebrate your birthday in sweats?"

She blinks at him, then gasps. "My birthday!"

She turns quickly, searching for someone. She lights up like a Christmas tree when she finds him.

"Johnny! Happy birthday!" she yells excitedly while running into his arms.

We all smile. Her energy and excitement is infectious. She hasn't been this way for years; since Dawn died.

"Happy birthday Lizzy," he tells her.

Clark moves. He walks over to the twins and taps Moira on the shoulder.

"There are a whole lot more people who want to say happy birthday to you Sweet Pea." He tells her, nodding his head toward the door.

Outside; that's where everyone is still waiting for her to come out so they can see her.

"Dad!" Moira calls excitedly before hugging him tightly as well.

He smiles down at her and holds her close.

Then his smile turns into laughter because Moira can't seem to stay still. She's bouncing up and down so much.

"I missed you guys so much," she says; then holds an arm out. Her brothers run to her. It's an awfully painful looking group hug. That's the only reason I stand still, over here, just smiling and shaking my head. I literally don't think I'd survive it.

"Okay, let go. I gotta go get changed and do my hair," Moira announces.

"I'll do your hair," I suggest. God, it feels like I haven't done her hair in years. I've always loved doing it; and I can't wait to get back some form of familiarity.

"No, it's okay Mom. I can do it," she calls over her shoulder while running up the stairs.

She only told me that she didn't need me to do my hair; but I feel rejected in a way. I've _always _done her hair. Always. And since when does she call me Mom? Haven't I always been Mama?

"Tracker! You better not go anywhere. It's my birthday and you can't leave until I say so. You owe me!" Moira quickly peeps her head back down the stairs to yell.

I turn toward Jeremiah. He's got a hand on the door knob. He was about to leave and she knew it. She knows him well.

He exhales loudly and opens the door. "Fine," he mutters through gritted teeth.

"Come on Chloe, let's wait for her outside," my husband tells me. He takes my hand in his and guides me toward the door. I know he can sense my reluctance to move; but he doesn't say anything about it. And neither do I. I just follow him outside.

The first person to approach us is Martha.

"She'll be down in a minute," Clark says before she can even ask.

Martha looks to me. I just smile back.

I hope, but doubt, I'm able to fool her with it.

She notices; but thankfully she doesn't comment.

Moira doesn't take long to get ready. My guess is she used superspeed to dress. Usually, it's not allowed. Clark and I don't want our children taking the shortcut with everything they do; but I don't mind today. As soon as she steps out the door and yells "Hi everybody!" everyone runs up to her to see her; and I'm left alone. I don't have to make small talk with anyone. I can just sit and think.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

I actually smile a little. It's Lois, and judging by her tone of voice she's more or less wondering what kind of illness I'm suffering from because I should be the happiest woman alive right now.

"She did her own hair and called me Mom," I answer. Then I laugh. I can't believe I'm upset over that. It sounds so ridiculous. My daughter's home, safe; and I'm pouting because she did her own hair and called me Mom? What's wrong with me?

But my cousin's not laughing with me. She's frowning.

"Red? She called you Mom?"

"I know!" I laugh some more. "There's nothing wrong with _that_."

Lois shakes her head. "No, there's nothing wrong with that," she answers softly.

"Mom!" I look up at Moira and smile. I can't help it. She's smiling so brightly, so excitedly, back at me.

"Mom! I've still got presents. How'd you guys know I'd be back on time?"

"We didn't," I answer her honestly.

She stops smiling. "Oh," she says.

Then she grabs my hand. "Come on, I wanna see what you guys got me."

"Oh, no. Cake first, that's always been the rule," Martha says beside us. It's almost creepy the way she's able to sneak up on people the way she does.

Moira groans. "Cake" is gonna take a long time. It'll be _hours_ before she's able to open her presents. The many, many, tables and chairs have to be set up. The children have to be rounded up, washed up, and put to the tables. "Cake" actually consists of a meal before the actually cake is served. Then the twins have to be sang to; and lots, and lots, of photos are taken.

My husband and sons set up the tables quickly. Usually they don't but it's already getting late. Everyone helps round up the children, and we're all seated, enjoying lasagna, within twenty minutes.

I'm sitting with my husband, children, Lois Oliver my nephews, Kara, Maddie, Greg, and Jeremiah. He's sitting next to Moira. She had to make him. He didn't want to sit at our table. I thought it was because he was uncomfortable around Clark; but Andrew's informed me that he stole something out of Kara's ship the day she was freed from the dam; something her father, Zor-El, told her to keep safe. Some kind of device used to activate a book of Rao, or something. I wasn't able to get the details. There'll be time for that soon enough.

"So, um…"

We all turn to look at Greg. He hasn't said much since he witnessed my husband, children, and Kara take off. Maddie had to pull him to the side and give him the run down. Poor guy. I think it's a bit much to take in a week before his big day; but better before than after I guess.

"You're Superman? Superman is gonna walk my wife down the aisle?" he whispers lowly. It's almost as if he still doesn't believe it himself; like if he says it low enough, no one will hear him and take him to Belle Reve for suggesting such a thing.

"The wedding!" Moira shouts.

All eyes turn to her now.

"I forgot. It's next Saturday, right?"

"Maddie nods her head. "But we can postpone it about a week"-

"No way, I have school tomorrow. Maybe afterward I can go to your house and then we can do some last minute wedding planning over the weekend?"

Maddie smiles and tells her that will be fine.

I'm not smiling. That won't be fine.

"You just got back, Lizzy. Why don't you settle down first? You don't even have to go to school tomorrow," I suggest.

"Mom, it's fine. I don't need any rest."

It's still not fine. She _still_ just got back. I don't want her to go. So I tell her she can't go.

"Why?" she frowns.

'Because I said so' is on the tip of my tongue; but I don't say it. And even if I was going to say it, she looks to her father and asks his permission with a simple "Dad?" before I would've been able to get the words out anyway.

He looks to me, and grabs my hand. Then he looks back at Moira. "We'll talk about it after cake," he tells her.

She smiles back at him.

Usually, he tells her he agrees with me immediately. Usually, it'd be an "I'm sorry, Sweet Pea; but your mother's right."

Not today. He thinks she's right; but he's respectful enough to wait until we're alone to tell me so.

I give in.

"No, it's okay. You can go," I tell my daughter.

"Thanks Mom," she grins excitedly.

I flinch a little inside. I don't want her to call me Mom. I want her to call me Mama, the way she used to.


	20. Chapter 20

**Jeremy Shane: **Thanks!

**Whatareweafraidof: **Lol. Thanks! I'm glad you understand.

**Dizzy78: **Lol, yeah, she's definitely emotional; but I think it was more or so because she thought Jeremiah was dead. Then when she found out he was alive her spirits lifted considerably.

**Madlenita: **Lol. I love that you're hoping for more, but this is the last chapter of this story; of this whole series in fact. But thank you for all your lovely comments;)

**The fallen sky: **Hey! You're supposed to be my friend. You really gotta stop imagining my "mishap." Not cool TFS; not cool at all;)

Dax-Ur, huh? You really _are_ a geek. I was close, I think. Anyway, don't think of me as an awful person, but you were right. I doubt Charlie and his adopted father, Cranston, knew about blue K. I just mentioned the blue K bracelet as a way of giving a triggering detail about the "Dax-Ur" dude, just in case you didn't remember him; because that's nearly the only thing_ I_ remember about him. Lol. The way I imagined it, and remember I asked you not to think I'm an awful person, but Cranston was a hundred times stricter than Jonathan Kent. Remember how Jonathan was always worried someone would discover Clark because he wasn't always so careful when rescuing people. Well, Cranston more or less succeeded in teaching his son to keep his head down. He'd lost his wife, probably his father in the war, probably his mother of heartbreak, and his son; so to speak. He didn't want to lose anyone else.

Well, he still had a sister, Cynthia, but I'm sure Jor-El and Mor-El warned him to keep the boy safe and protected, Jor-El especially; so I imagine he had very little contact with her after Charlie Senior started becoming "special." I know, it's horrible to think someone would actually let someone get hurt just to keep their secret, but not everyone can be like Clark Kent. If they were, he wouldn't stand out at all;)

Lol. Don't get so full of yourself! You really expect me to compromise and altar my stories just because I know you'll be uncomfortable with a scene I've written? What about everybody else? Not that you care about everyone else;) Anyway, I find it really amusing that you thought I'd be upset by the critiques you gave me. If anything I'd be more _embarrassed_ than upset.

I thought Greg freaking out about the Superman deal was a must. It was fun to write and it was realistic as hell; especially after he'd shown his ass. And yeah, I'll agree with you. One of my favorite parts of this chapter was the Lizzy/Chloe bathroom scene. I don't think Lizzy becoming a woman was what Chloe was so happy about; I think she was just relieved that her daughter hadn't been 'hurt.'

Gross TFS! Lizzy can't have feelings for Jeremiah. They're cousins…in like two different kinds of ways I might add! Both on Clark and Chloe's side, but I understand why you would think that about her. Even though he treated her bad as they got older, she probably never forgot that they were the best of friends for _years _before that. I don't think she'd want him to die.

You know, I was so sure you were going to bite my head off for that hug, especially because Chloe seemed to think Lizzy hugged him longer than she hugged her; and I was so prepared to tell you how Moira never had a reason to believe her mother would be in danger. She's got her father, brothers, sisters, members of the justice league, etc. But after thinking Jeremiah was going to _die_, she'd have different feelings toward seeing him again. Not feelings stronger than the love she has for her mother, but a stronger feeling of _relief_.

Lol. Don't be silly. Of course there weren't literally a hundred people at the birthday party. My guess would be that there was about half. I'm not sure how many children everyone has; and like Chloe pointed out, she was surprised they were all there on a Thursday and after school; but realized they were there to support her because of Moira going missing. Mainly, the number 100 was an exaggeration of Chloe's; her way of psyching herself into dealing with her daughter, "just one person," while Martha successfully dealt with way more; "like a hundred." Get it?

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you picked up on the fact that Moira was honoring the promise she'd made with herself before "the wedding;" but I kinda am. I think your attention to details has actually got me blushing a little this time. I really wasn't expecting anyone to notice that! But yeah, I don't think Clark's actually noticed much of a difference in Moira yet. She's happier, but he could be attributing that to the fact that she's glad to finally be home. And she's always alternated between calling him "Daddy" and "Dad." Whereas for Chloe, it's _always _been Mama, so Chloe would notice the change faster than Clark would.

As for more Chlark children, hell no! I think five's enough. Lol. Maybe Lizzy or Johnny can give them a grandkid _years and years _down the line. And as for more Chlark stories, I'm sorry to say the answer to that is no…Well at least not for a while. It's recently been brought to my attention that I have a few things to work on when it comes to my writing. Since I'm woman enough to learn from critiques given to me, I've got to go over a lot more things, a _lot_ more thoroughly, now before I post. But don't worry; I doubt it will be longer than a few months;)

**Happiness is my goal: **Lol, I'm so sorry you didn't get any sleep hun, and I'm more than sure you've had plenty of time to concentrate on school by now. Sorry about that by the way. I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this story

**Shonnia22:** I know exactly what you mean. Even though Chloe should be happy, I feel as though she's lost something very important as well. Here's to hoping she can get it back!

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

I've kept the promise I made to myself nine days ago; and I can honestly say it was hard at first; the first day or two especially.

Before I went to bed last Thursday night, I learned that my new cousin, Kara, had been sleeping in my bed while I was away. Since I was back, she'd have to sleep elsewhere. The only other place I could think of for Kara to sleep was on our living room couch since she didn't exactly have any other family she could crash with, or money for a place of her own. It was on the tip of my tongue to offer her the bottom bunk back and to just sleep up top with Noley. I had no idea how long it would take for her to adapt to human ways and customs so that she could get a job and support herself, but my best guess was that it would take more than a couple of months. It wouldn't be right to make her sleep on the sofa for _months_; right?

But I managed to keep my mouth shut.

I didn't _really_ want to sleep on the top bunk with Noley. I was just going to offer because it was the nice thing to do; something I would have done before "the promise." It's not like it would _kill_ my cousin to sleep on the couch for a little while, or until she found a place of her own…whenever that might've been. At least, that's what I had to tell myself to keep from feeling guilty and selfish…not that it worked.

Then I felt even worse when my parents thought up an alternative solution. The cellar, Casey's spot, was turned into a space for Kara…all because I didn't want to share a bed with Noley. I almost gave in right then and there. I knew for a fact that Casey would've loved nothing more than to move out of the bedroom she shares with me and Noley and to use the cellar as her own bedroom, the same way Johnny and Andrew use the loft. It wasn't a secret. Then our parents go and give her space away to another girl?

I told myself that if Casey made just one murmuring complaint about it, I would offer to sleep with Noley so she could keep her spot. Forget the promise.

But Casey didn't say anything. At first I thought it was because she didn't know yet as she was upstairs in the shower when the decision was made; and I didn't go upstairs to tell her because, well, I _wasn't_ going to be the one to tell her.

It was about an hour later that I realized Casey knew all about it. Mama came into our room and gave her an old comforter to take down to "Kara's room." Casey rolled her eyes before saying, "If she's sleeping in her ship I'm shipping her back to Krypton." Mama laughed before telling her it would just be for one night; that Dad built Kara a bed, and Andrew somehow convinced Uncle Oliver to buy her a mattress. Casey rolled her eyes again before heading outside, but I think even Mama heard her say, "Of course Andrew wouldn't want his precious cousin sleeping on a bale of hay," as she left.

That was it. That was all the complaining Casey did concerning the cellar. I figured she must've been okay with the arrangement because Casey _always_ voices her opinions on all that she deems unfair.

It was either that, or she only agreed with it because she knew better than to make a fuss on the night that I returned; and if that was true, I just knew that she was gonna get me back for it later.

Technically, it wasn't my fault her space got taken away from her; but I'm definitely a contributing factor. I'm the one who fought with Johnny, broke the dam, and released Kara. Casey's not a stupid girl. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be able to see how I indirectly caused her to lose her space.

And I was right. She did get me back. The next morning Casey woke me up her usual way; with a very hard smack to my bottom, only this one was _much_ harder than all the others have _ever_ been. Surprisingly, I didn't get mad at her. I can honestly say that I kinda missed that, even though it hurt like hell. It really was kind of nice having her treat me as if I was normal; as if I was the sister she argued and fought with on a regular basis, rather than her treating me different because of what happened to me.

It was like any regular morning before I was taken; like nothing had changed.

So, just like any normal morning before I was taken, I asked her to stop.

And just like any normal morning before I was taken, she didn't agree to do so before telling me to put some shorts on and leaving the bedroom.

So, my Friday morning started off the way it normally did; well, with the exception of Noley sleeping beside me. Apparently she'd snuck down into my bed during the middle of the night.

I know she missed me, and I missed her even more, so I didn't have a problem with that; but after waking her up I told her that she had to sleep in her own bed from now on. She gave me a pouting frown, but I didn't give in….as much as I really wanted to; and I really, _really,_ wanted to give in to her. As pathetic as it may make me sound, I nearly closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to look at her any longer; and that was nearly the only way I was able to hold my ground until she agreed with a very cranky, "Fine."

With that done, I decided to give her a little more bad news. I could've waited, regrouped from the first time I had to tell her "no," but I just wanted to get it all over with; and as soon as I possibly could. So I told her that when she falls out of the bed from now on, she was going to have to get back in her bed by herself.

Her jaw dropped; and I know exactly why. Falling out of the bed is, _was,_ one of her favorite parts of the night. It was like a game to her as she was usually only _pretending_ to still be asleep. I heard she stayed on the floor for nearly two hours until Casey picked her up one night while I was gone. She was really taking it too far, and it was time for her to stop. She was getting too old, and I was getting tired of getting out of my bed to put her back in hers.

I just never admitted it to anyone, not even to myself. I didn't want to be the bad guy and deny my baby sister her bit of fun. And if I'm being honest with myself, I didn't want Noley to be mad at me, or to hate me. It would really hurt me if she hated me because I love her so much; but it was time for me to get over that fear. It's not like I could pick Noley up after she falls out of the bed forever anyway.

It took about five minutes, literally, to get her to agree with me. There was another show of the pouty face and everything; but I stayed firm and in the end she reluctantly agreed to pick herself up after she fell from then on. The funny thing is, she was really agreeing to stop falling out of the bed period. I mean, if I wasn't going to pick her up anymore, there was no sense in her "falling" any longer.

After it was over, I was kinda disappointed in myself. I don't know why I didn't tell her "no" sooner. She was only sad for about a quarter of a minute, literally eleven seconds, before getting excited over what she was going to put together to wear to school; and it didn't even hurt me to tell her no! Not physically anyway, and certainly not for long. I could've told her to pick herself up years ago! I could've saved myself about five years of waking up at all kinds of a.m's of the night to put my sister back in her bed!

I couldn't help but to get excited. I mean, it was a bit liberating to get my way for a change, to get something _I _wanted. I almost couldn't wait until the next time I would get an opportunity to honor "the promise" again.

And with that thought buzzing around in my head, I skipped off to the bathroom, giving Noley enough time and privacy to dress, and I washed my face quickly while trying my best to ignore my parents. I could hear them talking downstairs, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Well, I _could_ if I wanted to, but I've never been one for eaves dropping. Not only that, but I was also making a conscious effort to ignore them because I heard Mama say my name.

I realized they could've been talking about any number of things, but I had a pretty good idea of what the conversation was about just by their tone of voices alone.

Mama wanted to talk to me about what happened while I was away. She didn't believe me when I told her I was fine, that I didn't need to talk about it, and that nothing happened to me. I could tell she thought I was lying because she kept asking me if I was sure I was fine; if I was sure I wanted to go to school; and if I was sure I wanted to go to Maddie's.

I kept lying to her, telling her that I was sure; but the truth is, I didn't really want to go to school or to Maddie's. I wanted to spend time with my family; with my dad, my brothers and sisters, and Mama…especially Mama.

But I couldn't. I had to find a way to get my life back to normal, to find some kind of rhythm so that I could keep the promise. If I didn't, like Noley I wouldn't have slept in my own bed that first night. I would've ended up sleeping in my parents' bed. Really. I would've clung to my mother all day and all night; and probably for many, many, more nights; as many nights as it would've take for me to get used to being home and safe…and I know my parents would've let me. And if my dad didn't want me to, I know Mama would have convinced him to let me anyway.

Now, that's just not healthy; _especially_ for a girl my age. And it most certainly wouldn't have been fair to my family. I know they pretty much put their lives on hold searching for me, which meant my siblings had friends to catch up with, and Dad had work, both DP and Superman work to attend to; and Mama, I'm sure she was worried enough about me while I was gone. Why would I add more stress to her by dumping the freaky clingy thing on her now that I _had_ come home?

Sure, she was obviously still concerned now that I had returned, but I was also sure that if I could convince her that I was fine she'd worry less and less. So, I ignored their downstairs talk, hurried back to my room, and kicked Noley out. Not rudely of course, I suggested she go downstairs and try to help Mama with breakfast. She likes that kind of stuff.

Once I was alone, I did something I've never done before; or tried to anyway. Make-up and hair.

It was a disaster. Not the make-up. That was pretty easy; of course I only put on mascara and lip gloss. But it was still something.

It was the hair. I don't know how Mama was able to do it. There was so much of it, even after being cut, and it was so thick. My hands are bigger than Mama's, but for the life of me I couldn't get a good grip on the stuff.

Thankfully, Casey came in and helped me…after she laughed at me first. I told her to shut up and help me. She raised her eyebrows in amusement before doing so.

When I noticed she was trying to part my hair, I stopped her. I didn't want pigtails. I wanted a simple ponytail, which made her laugh even harder. After a minute or so, I began to laugh with her. The fact that I couldn't put my hair in a simple ponytail was truly pathetic.

All the laughter came to an abrupt stop when Mama walked in on us. Apparently my sister and I were laughing so hard she could hear us downstairs and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

She was smiling at first; probably happy things were getting back to normal and ready to do her motherly thing by getting the two of us to stop bickering with each other. Then she stopped smiling immediately when she saw what was going on.

Casey and I weren't bickering. Casey and I were having fun, laughing and carrying on because I couldn't do my own hair.

I didn't miss the hurt expression on Mama's face; even though it didn't last long. Even though she quickly tried to hide it with a smile before telling us to hurry up so we could go downstairs and eat breakfast, then leaving the two of us alone.

Casey and I straightened up then. Nothing was funny anymore. As irrational as it sounds, I felt like I betrayed my own mother by laughing with Casey. I hadn't laughed with Mama yet. I tried to. I tried to make light of things and joke with her, but she wouldn't participate…which was really my own fault. I should've known she wouldn't want to. She wouldn't be a good mother if she pretended like nothing had happened and everything was hunky dory. She wouldn't be a good mother if she didn't try to get me to open up to her…like the way it'd seemed I'd opened up to my sister. I was so tempted to tell my sister to stop with the hair, run downstairs to Mama, and tell her that everything she wanted to know; that I was still scared and creeped out, even though I knew Zod and Brianiac had been banished and could never come back. I wanted to tell her that I didn't want to go to school, or to Maddie's, or to be separated from her ever again. I wanted to hold onto her and have her hold me as I cried like a baby, but I didn't. I decided I was too old for Mama to hold the way I wanted to be held; so, I stayed seated and I let Casey finish showing me how to do my hair. She'd learned a trick or two for handling thick hair as she'd been doing her own for years now.

They were very helpful; the tips about my hair and how to manage it. I wouldn't need her help again.

We went downstairs afterward; but not together. I let Casey go down first; told her I forgot something. It wasn't actually a lie, it was…just …okay, so it was definitely a lie; and not even a little white lie. It was just a regular ol' lie. I just didn't want to go downstairs with Casey; not after we'd been caught together….as if we had been caught doing something illegal. God, thinking back on it, what was I thinking? We didn't do anything wrong. But I couldn't get myself to feel otherwise at the time.

So instead of getting that thing that I "forgot," I went into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked different. I was dressed for school, but my pigtails were missing. I still felt the same; but, I looked different.

I kinda liked the way I looked. Older, more independent. Then I began to _feel_ different. Older, more independent. I was finally letting myself grow up a little. It didn't have to be a bad thing; something to force myself into just 'cause I promised myself. Some good could come out of it, something better than not having to pick Noley up during the middle of the night at least. So, I took a deep breath and headed down the hall.

I could hear Sammy and my Auntie downstairs, and I ran down the steps to greet them. It was too late for Sammy to be visiting Smallville on a school day unless…

"Still coming to Smallville High, Sammy?" I questioned as a greeting to my younger cousin as soon as I was within reaching distance of him.

He scowled at me, told me his name is Sam.

He'd been doing that for about two years, and I still couldn't get it right. Apparently I was never gonna, so I didn't apologize the way I would've done B.K. (before the kidnapping) Instead, I ruffled his hair and said, "Actually, your name is Samuel, but I'm sticking with Sammy. Where's Dad?"

Even before Mama answered me, I already knew Dad left because of an emergency. It's just that asking for him was my way of ending the conversation while having the last words. Sammy hates being called Samuel even more than being called Sammy. So naturally he didn't answer as his mouth was just hanging open; but I pretended not to notice as I pulled my Auntie Lois into a quick hug. I made it a point to let go of her before she could realize I was hugging her. As I've mentioned before, she's not really big on hugs and stuff.

I heard Casey and Andrew snort into their cereal, and just so that I wouldn't laugh aloud with them I walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a bowl and the Lucky Charms.

"Uh, Lizzy, I already fixed your cereal," I heard Noley call behind me. I didn't turn around immediately. I grabbed a spoon out of the silverware drawer and the milk out of the fridge before facing her.

"You took out the marshmallows didn't you?" I asked.

She nodded her head proudly, remembering that I didn't like them.

I sat down beside her, poured my cereal, and finally told her the truth. The marshmallows are my favorite part of the cereal.

The whole kitchen went silent. It took a lot of effort for me to keep my head up and face everyone. Keeping my head down and focusing on my marshmallow-less cereal was something I would've done B.K.

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at everyone as if they were the weird ones; and they kinda were. I mean, it was just cereal; marshmallows to be more specific.

"Well then who's gonna eat this?" Noley asked, gesturing toward the marshmallow-less cereal. I had a feeling she'd be the first to speak and I was glad when she did. I didn't know how much longer I could sit there and pretend not to notice everyone was staring at me.

"You poured it, you should eat it," I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could.

"I'm full," she informed me.

"So am I," I said before getting up and putting my bowl away as if to prove my point. I was lying again. I hadn't even finished my cereal; hell, I'd barely even started! But there I was, using the garbage disposal and washing my dishes.

Noley got up and followed after me. I heard her coming even before she patted me on the rear to get my attention. When I looked down at her, I wasn't surprised to see the frown on her face.

"Word of the day," she said to me. I opened up my mouth to tell her one, glad for the familiar game; but she interrupted me. "No, I got one for you."

I arched an eyebrow at her. That's not usually how we played. Usually I thought of a word and she had to give me the definition of it.

"Authentic," she told me.

"Real," I shrugged, coming up with the easiest definition I could for her.

"Right, I want my _authentic _sister back," she told me before stomping her way to her bus stop.

Technically, that wasn't the correct way to use the word authentic, but I understood what she was trying to tell me. I just couldn't give her what she wanted. I couldn't go back to being the old Lizzy, not just because of the promise; but because I didn't want to.

Thankfully, Casey saved me…_again_, by saying, "Mom, aren't you going to go get that?"

I know it sounds as if she was talking about a knock on the front door; but she was actually referring to the Kent having a tantrum, Noley.

Johnny handed Mom Noley's book bag, staring at me the whole time; Mom went outside to deal with Noley; I made a huge effort not stare back at Johnny or to listen in on Mama and Noley; Auntie Lois declared it was time for her to go; and me, my brothers, cousin, and sister continued to get ready for school.

When Noley's bus came, I was outside. I wanted to tell her goodbye. I tried to hug her and everything but she didn't want to. She gave everyone else a hug, including Casey, but it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. She was mad at me. Did I really expect her to want to hug me goodbye? No; but Mama figured I'd had my feelings hurt. She came up to me, and the way she said my name, I just knew she wanted to talk.

"She'll get over it," I told her with a bright smile before she could say much more. She frowned at me, doubting my words, but Noley's _Noley _for goodness sake. I just knew she was gonna bounce back to being her old self.

I was too busy thinking about school to wonder why Mama wasn't smiling with me. I was also too busy thinking about how I was gonna stop being the "shy Kent chick;" and how school could be fun to notice that my siblings were staring at me too.

When I finally got to school, everyone seemed shocked but not surprised to see me. They knew I'd come home; but I guess they expected me to stay home for a few days before trying to get back to normal routines. And I got that, I mean, who starts school on a Friday? Why not take Friday and the weekend off and start on Monday?

Then the whispering and gossiping began. I can honestly say that it didn't bother me. In fact, some of the scenarios my schoolmates came up were pretty creative. Some thought I ran away with "Heath" and my dad finally caught up to us. I won't even mention what they figured happened to "Heath" at the mercy of my father. Some thought I'd gotten knocked up and ran away to "take care of it" on my own….yeah, okay; and those were just a few of the more "in the box" bits of gossip. The other stuff usually had something to do with alien abductions and experimentation, and the funny part about that is they were almost right…to a certain extinct.

Of course only a few had the courage to say anything to me personally. The first person was Frank Josiah, Andrew's best friend. He told me he was glad that I was back and that he thought I was dead. It was a bit blunt but at least he was being honest with me. Truth is, I kinda knew he was being so honest because he liked me…_liked _me, liked me. I'd known for a while; but he was Andrew's best friend and a year younger than me. Even though I thought he was a decent guy, I knew things could go wrong. I could mess up my brother's friendship _and_ it would be weird for me, a sophomore, to date a freshman.

The second person to actually have the guts to confront me over my disappearance and reappearance was not actually just one person, but a group of girls; Chantal, Carla, and Kerry. When Chantal and her friends stopped me in the hallway, Andrew had been walking by. He stopped as well, sensing trouble. Chantal wasn't exactly the nicest girl around.

"I see you're back, but what happened to Heath?" She asked. She didn't give me time to answer before asking me if he left because of "our" loss. It was easy to see she was one of the many who believed I'd taken care of a "problem" Jeremiah and I created together. Hell, she was probably the one to start that rumor.

"It's a shame; he would've made a great father too. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have his number would you?" she added.

Her friends laughed, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother approaching slowly.

I shook my head at him, he glared at me. He always glared at me when I tried to stop him from coming to my defense before coming to my rescue anyway. This time I stopped him by asking him if he had paper and pencil so I could write down "Heath's" number rather loudly. He scowled at me, but gave me what I asked for; and I pretended to give Chantal what she asked for. I wrote down seven numbers, 382-5968. It wasn't Jeremiah's number and I knew she'd realize it soon enough; but she would never get the message I sent her. It would never occur to her that the number was two words. The first letter, 3, being an F; and the last letter, 8, being U.

She said, "thank you."

I said "anytime," smiled, and kept walking.

Andrew walked up beside me and asked me why I gave her the number. I told him I didn't and showed him the number I did give her.

He got it immediately and expressed his pride by giving me a smile and a very painful clap to my back. We went our separate ways then, and I told him I'd see him at lunch. I'd planned on asking Frank out then, in front of my brother, just to make sure he was okay with it. It had just occurred to me a little earlier that I didn't have a date for Maddie's wedding. And I thought, _'_Why not ask Frank?

My classes flew by like a whirlwind. I really missed school, and that includes the work and teachers; even Ms. Pratt. I didn't mind seeing her unfriendly face one bit; though I did detect a hint of a smile aimed my way once or twice. I returned a bright one just in case she really was smiling at me.

Then it was lunch time and I wasted no time asking Frank out. Well, I didn't ask him out on a date or anything; but I spotted him sitting with my brother as well as a bunch of other guys, and I just plopped down in front of him and asked him if he wanted to go to a wedding with me before the guys even realized there was a girl at "their table." Both my brother and Frank's jaws dropped and I nearly retracted my offer. I mean, they were staring at me as if I'd asked him to marry me or something. It took _forever _for him to answer, and I had an awful thought. What if he was seeing someone? I didn't even ask! But then after giving my brother what can only be described as a pleading look, to which Andrew answered with a shrug of his shoulders, Frank _finally_ said yes. I smiled at him and got up from the table. I didn't want to intrude on their "guy time" and I'd already gotten what I wanted. And before I knew it, it'd gotten all over school that I was dating a freshman. I knew it would, and surprisingly, I was okay with it. It wasn't nearly as bad as all the other rumors flying around about me.

My last three classes passed by fairly quickly, just as the ones preceding them had. I thought I was done after that. I mean, there was nothing else to do but go home at that point; but then I bumped into Chantal in the hallway; or rather, _she _bumped into me. Apparently, she _did _get the message I'd sent her via bogus phone number. It only took her all day, but hey, I figured she'd never get it, so I was actually kinda impressed. And I told her so before leaving her there with her friends because I had a bus to catch.

And that was my first day back at Smallville High. Well, those were the most interesting events anyway. Not bad, all things considered. Like I said, kinda fun; that is if I don't count the disappointed and confused looks Johnny kept sending my way during various points of the day; especially during my last confrontation with Chantal. It actually made me feel bad; guilty. Like I was taking the promise too far and abusing my powers or something. But I didn't give it much more thought than that. I mean, I didn't put Chantal through a bathroom stall or anything. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind because I truly don't like to hurt people. That means I'm still a good person, right? Those thoughts were the ones I used to convince myself that I hadn't done anything that bad.

When I got home, I practically ran up to my bedroom announcing the fact that I was gonna change my clothes loudly for Johnny's benefit. I knew he wanted to talk to me privately; not on a bus full of nosey high schoolers. I could tell. He just had that look on his face; and he was the only other Kent that came home on the bus with me. Casey and Andrew had friends to catch up with. I'm sure Johnny had friends to catch up with as well; but he, being the caring brother that he is, decided to put me first.

Once inside my room I noticed right away that Mama had my stuff packed to go to Maddie's. It was sitting there on my bed all neat and tidy. I should've been happy; but I wasn't. I went downstairs to find her, and I told her that I could've done the packing myself when I got in. She told me it was nothing and she smiled at me. As stupid as it sounds, I felt a little hurt. I'd just gotten back not even two full days ago, how could she just let me go away again? I wanted her to tell me I couldn't go, but she didn't. She even packed my bags for me. She was okay with me going.

So, I made the hurt feelings go away. I told myself over and over again that _I _was the one who wanted to go. _I _was the one who argued, and begged, and enlisted the aid of my father so that I _could _go. So, why the hell was I hissy fitting because Mama was letting me go?

It helped a little. A very little, but it did help; and I stayed with Mama, helping her around the house and stuff, until Maddie came for me. I felt a little guilty for that too. I mean, I used to help Mama around the house all the time B.K just because I wanted to help her; but that time, I was doing it to avoid Johnny. He tried to get me alone a few times, but I would wander back over to my mother's side as inconspicuously as I could.

Thank God I didn't have to do it for long. Maddie was there literally ten minutes after I'd gotten home. I honestly don't think I could've lasted longer than that without Johnny asking me outright to talk with him somewhere private, piquing the interest of Mama and making me explain away my new attitude and that rude thing I did to Chantal.

To my surprise, my weekend away from home was actually a lot of fun. Maddie and I did a lot of shopping of course, some extra planning for the wedding; but mostly we caught up. She asked me about school, Mama, everything, including the time spent with Zod. I thought it would be hard to talk about it, but it wasn't. It actually felt really good to let her know that I was still scared sometimes. And as an answer to that admission, she just looked at me and said "Duh!"

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing and I couldn't stop. No wonder she's my best friend! She's supposed to be all grown up now, getting married and such, and she says "duh" when I tell her I'm scared? It was a very good laugh for the both of us, and it loosened up the tension I'd been feeling considerably.

Then Dad stopped by, and my weekend got even better. After he greeted and hugged me I couldn't even bring myself to ask him why he was there. I was just so happy to see him, and apparently he was just as happy to see me. He kept an arm around my shoulder long after the hug was over and I knew it was because he wasn't used to seeing me whenever he wanted. He missed me.

I knew the exact same feeling, but before I could even tease him about checking up on me, he asked to see Maddie's dress. She pulled it out excitedly, and with good reason. It was a beautiful dress. Cream-colored, with short and see-through sleeves, small beads stitched into about a hundred tiny flowers across the top of a pretty modest neckline, and even more tiny flowers cropped into a V at her waistline where the dress just began to flare out a bit. But not too much; making it showy with a touch of elegance, but Dad only frowned at the dress. And when Maddie asked what was wrong with it, Dad said, "It's not white. Wedding dresses are supposed to be white." She corrected him then, by rolling her eyes and saying, "Clark, don't be so old fashioned. Girls only wore white dresses because it meant they were"- and then she stopped there, not only because of the look he was giving her, but because there was no way in hell she was gonna tell Dad that she wasn't a virgin. I mean, I'm sure he knew on some level, but there was just no way to say it out loud and it be okay.

"I'm not paying for a dress that's not white," Dad said stubbornly.

I looked to Maddie, wondering who was going to mention the fact that Dad _hadn't_ paid for the dress, Greg had.

She didn't look back at me. She just rolled her eyes again, thrust her wedding dress in my direction, and said; "Fine, Lizzy can wear the dress and _you_ can buy me a white a one."

Dad was delighted. He said "I will."

Maddie's reply was a mumbled, "It better be a damn pretty one too." Dad just laughed, said "that's my girl," and pulled her into a hug; a hug Maddie didn't return. One of her arms was pressed firmly against her side, the other was holding the dress out to me. I wanted to laugh at her; at the way she was sulking like a child because of what my father made her give up, but I couldn't. I didn't have the heart. Plus she was glaring at me over his shoulder as she offered the dress to me. I didn't want to take it. Not just because I wanted no part of what had just happened, but because it was a wedding dress, not a bridesmaid's dress. We were all supposed to wear this rose colored dress she'd picked out. They weren't so bad, beside the fact that I would need to dye my hair any other color besides my natural red so that it wouldn't clash horribly with the dress. But hey, it was her wedding day, not mine.

But I ended up taking the dress when I heard a slight warning rattle of the windows. And I'm wearing it now. Grandma had to make a few adjustments on it because I'm taller than Maddie, so it fits me perfectly now. It looks _much _better than that rose-colored dress did and I'm extremely, but secretly, happy Dad had such a huge fit over the white dress issue.

I let my eyes scan over the barn as I wait for Maddie and Dad to come down the stairs. They should be coming along any minute now. And even if they weren't, I have no problem standing here and looking around for a while. The barn looks _nothing _like a barn. Anyone who doesn't know about Maddie's gift wouldn't understand the theme; which happens to be glass. It's everywhere. Maddie can shape glass into just about anything, a trick she first witnessed her biological father do. He was able to manipulate glass into the shape of a butterfly using nothing but his mind; and to show her appreciation, Maddie shattered it with _her _mind. She didn't like him much, but he didn't really care because he just put the butterfly back together again.

I don't know if butterflies have always been her favorite, or if she acquired a liking for them after her father tried to give that glass one to her, but I do know that she loves them. And now there are glass butterflies everywhere; glittering because of the way the sunlight is beaming in from the windows. They're hanging from the ceiling, posted up on the walls, perched on the windows and doorframes, attached to the bannisters. I have to say, they complement the all-white banners, streamers, balloons, and especially the white carpet extending from the doorway of the barn and leading all the way up the stairs where Maddie will soon make her appearance, in such a way that even Noley couldn't get tired of looking at her surroundings.

I glance over my shoulder a little, looking outside. Outside is where the real work is displayed. The chairs, the tables the vases, the flowers to go in the vases, all made of glass. It's quite blinding, but in the most beautiful way possible, like the emerald city or something.

No more than ten seconds later, I hear a cough that brings my attention back inside. Greg. I don't need to sneak a peek at him to know that h he looks extremely nervous. It's been his constant facial expression since he found out the family secret. I've got to hand it to him. He hasn't backed out yet. He must really love her. Either that, or he's afraid of what Maddie's surrogate family would do to him if he backed out and broke her heart.

I let my eyes do a little more roaming inside the barn, and that's when I see him; Jeremiah. I haven't seen or heard from him since my birthday, last Thursday. What's he doing here now?

I nearly go to him, but music begins to play, announcing the fact that Maddie's about to be walked down the aisle...barn stairs. Jeez, I completely forgot about that! I must be the worst maid of honor who's ever lived. And you'd think a thought like that would have some kind of effect on me; that I'd be able to focus on the bride at the top of the stairs, right?

I wish; but in my defense, I don't ignore her _completely_. No one could. Maddie is absolutely stunning. I hadn't seen the new dress yet, which is total bull crap. It's the groom who's not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, not the best friend. But my jaw does a little dropping when I see it for the first time. It's white, just like Dad wanted, but it's not the simple or conservative dress I figured my father would purchase. It's strapless and form fitting; so much so that I don't even think she's using a push-up bra to get her "assets" to stay up, yet they're not tastelessly spilling out over the top either. Also, the dress is short; like, a good six or seven inches above her knees short, but it looks even shorter than _that _because of the train; which is actually added material encircling her waist but leaving the front exposed. It's long, transparent, and has silver confetti all over. Like the glass butterflies everywhere, the train glitters wherever the sun touches the confetti. And her shoes! I think they're actually made of glass!

Of course that was enough to get my attention; but then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremiah move a little and I start to get a little antsy. He can't be leaving yet. I didn't even get to speak to him yet. I haven't spoken to him since my birthday. He didn't answer any of my calls or texts, and I was _not _going to go find him. It was obvious he didn't want to talk to me; which didn't make me feel any better because he had no problem staying in contact with Kara. Sure, she was mad at him for stealing from her ship, but apparently she's forgiven him since then. She talks about him _all _the time. He reminds her of her aunt and uncles from Krypton in some ways, so now he's her favorite person or something.

Good grief, I sound bitter; but I'm not. I'm at my best friend's wedding, and I'm happy about it. Maddie's made it down the stairs, and Dad makes a show of not wanting to give her away. It makes everyone laugh when he refuses to let her arm go, everyone except Greg that is. He looks even more nervous than before. I honestly didn't think that was possible. But then Maddie kisses Dad on the cheek; he lets her go and offers Greg a wink; And Greg finally smiles. It's a nervous and relief filled smile, but still a smile.

Then the ceremony begins with the infamous opening, "Dearly beloved…" I just heard the whole thing yesterday at the rehearsal, and I've got it memorized. So naturally I let my thoughts wander back over to Jeremiah. He's still here, and I'm not surprised that he's standing next to Kara; I'm just a little irritated. We used to be the best of friends for three years before he started treating me like he hated my guts. It was so abrupt, so confusing that I was never able to fully let go of the friendship and memories of good times. It wasn't like we had a falling out or anything. One day he was my friend, the next day he wasn't.

Now all that Zod and Brainiac stuff is over and he's still avoiding me. I mean, he hasn't looked my way once, and I've been staring at him for a while now.

"Maddie Van Horn, will you have this man to be your husband?..."

That gets my attention. The ring exchange. I'm supposed to be paying attention to my best friend. Not my "I'm not so sure where we stand" friend.

Once again, I give Maddie my attention. I watch the way she smiles as she recites her vows to Greg; and I watch Greg do the same. He's much less nervous now, totally focused on Maddie; which is extremely adorable. And that holds my attention for about….a full minute before I'm thinking about Jeremiah again. What. Is. Wrong. With me?

I need closure. That's what's wrong with me. I just need to talk to Jeremiah and then I'll be…I should be…I _will _be ok.

I search him out once more, expecting to find him instantly because he was just standing by _Kara _before, but I don't see him. I see my brother, Andrew, and my date, Frank, instead. Andrew's watching the couple the way I'm supposed to be and Frank's watching me. He gives me a smile and a small wave. I return the smile, and give him a very discreet wave. Not that the kind of subtle wave that's used when a person doesn't want anyone to know who they're with, but the kind of wave that's used because one doesn't want to draw attention to herself on someone else's big day. I just need to stop thinking about Jeremiah period and concentrate on the wedding. He obviously only came to talk to Kara.

Now Maddie has my undivided attention; but it's kinda too late. Greg is told he can kiss his bride. I missed most of the ceremony thanks to Jeremiah. Who am I kidding? It's really my own fault.

The reception is going much better than the ceremony. I've finally managed to put Jeremiah out of my mind. I've been too busy eating, taking pictures, laughing at my father who keeps disappearing due to "emergency" when his eyes start to get all glossy. I'm surprised he didn't jet as soon as it was time for the father daughter dance. Well, I'm not really surprised. Maddie probably would've killed him if he had.

I'm invited onto the floor by my godfather, AC. I really hope I don' step on his feet. Needless to say, I'm not a great dancer.

Casey's doing fine with her godfather. She's a good dancer. And so is Uncle Ollie.

Noley and Uncle Victor are hilarious. He's so formal and uptight, and I'm pretty sure Noley is dancing to a tune inside of her head rather than the ballet currently playing. She's just everywhere, on his feet, twirling behind him until he just gives in and picks her up. There's twirling a little too fast for the human eye to keep up with after that, it's kinda making me dizzy. She's loving it though. If she laughs any harder she'll cough up her diaphragm.

"Excuse me, can I cut in?"

Frank…at least it should have been Frank because he's my date, but I've already got one hand on his shoulder and one hand in his before I realize I'm dancing with Jeremiah. I thought he was gone!

"The silent treatment Mosey?" he asks. I can tell he's got one of those half-smiles on his face, but I wouldn't know for sure because I'm staring over his shoulder. And I'm pissed. How can he accuse me of giving _him_ the silent treatment? He's the one who never returned my calls or texts.

Then I get mad at my godfather, not that it's his fault, but he shouldn't have just given me away like that.

"Look, I don't think your boyfriend over there is enjoying this very much, so if you have anything to say to me you should say it or ask it before I go, Mosey."

Go? He just got here…again. That's what I want to say, but the first thing out of my mouth is, "Frank isn't my boyfriend yet."

"Yet? Well congratulations on the not yet freshman boyfriend."

I smile against my own will and tell him to shut up. He tells me that he can't shut up because then there would be no way for him to answer all of my questions.

I don't say anything to that. I'm still looking over his shoulder so I spot Frank. He does look a little uncomfortable. I give him a bright smile and a wave. He waves back and I hear him whisper "what's up with her and "that guy." Andrew shrugs and tells Frank that he's just our cousin." Frank seems relieved by that answer.

"Question number one…" Jeremiah prompts.

I pull back a little to look at him before I ask him if he misses her. I can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly who I'm talking about; his grandmother, Mor-El.

"Yes," he answers softly.

"I miss her too. Did you always know you were gonna have to send her away with Brainiac and Zod like that?"

There's a bit of a pause before he answers me with that same one syllable word, yes.

Now for the hard questions.

"Did you always know it was gonna be my fault, is that why you hated me?"

I meant for the questions to come out as nonchalant as possible, but I ended up sounding like a small scared little kid on the last one.

He gives me a little twirl, reminding me that we're dancing before saying, "Yes and no."

I frown at him. What does that mean?

"Yes, I always knew it was going to be your fault, and no, I never hated you."

My frown deepens. "You did hate me, Tracker.'

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"I tried my best to hate you, but I never actually hated you."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" I hiss.

He shrugs.

I raise my eyebrows.

He smiles; a real smile.

I scowl; a real scowl.

He sighs.

I step on his foot, on purpose and really hard.

"Ow Mosey, I was just about to tell you!" he hisses.

"Tell me what?" I hiss back.

"That you were my best friend and when I learned about what was going to happen I got scared"

I frown. Jeremiah, scared?

"What if I couldn't do everything I was supposed to do? What if I messed something up and you died? It would be all my fault! I figured it would be much easier if I didn't care about you anymore; but you didn't make that easy. No matter how mean I was to you, you were always so irritatingly nice back. What's wrong with you by the way?"

I gap at him. I would've never guessed that! And what's wrong with me?

"There's nothing wrong with me," I answer stubbornly.

He smiles at me. "There _is_ a little something wrong with you."

I tell him to shut up; but he doesn't get to respond back. Frank is cutting in.

I half expect Jeremiah to give him a hard time but he doesn't. He tells me he'll see me soon and I make him promise. That's one good thing about Jeremiah. He usually makes good on his promises if he can.

I don't get to dance with frank for a full ten seconds before Casey cuts in. True to Casey form, she's awfully rude with it. She barely apologizes, just says, "Calm down you can dance with her later."

"So," I prompt a little uneasily. Me and Casey get along just a _little _better than we did before; but us dancing together is weird.

"I need you to go over to Mom and be nice to her, like now. I can't take this anymore. It's driving me crazy Lizzy," she starts off. No preamble needed. Not for Casey.

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you made at her or something?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

Casey makes this noise that sounds something like a growl and a sigh mixed together. "Please tell me you're not that clueless."

My face goes blank. Now I feel clueless because I really don't know what she's talking about.

"You keep hurting her feelings! Every time she tries to do something with you or for you that she used to do you won't let her do it. You stopped kissing her goodbye, you stopped letting her do your hair, you stopped coming home after school to help her with chores, you argue with her about almost every little thing. It's like you're a completely different person."

Noley comes up to us before I can respond. It's not like I had anything to say anyway. Noley removes Casey's hand from my waist. She wants to dance with me too, but Casey barks a, "back off, we're talking here," at her. Not that it did any good. Noley shouts, "You can't tell me what to do." Casey tells her to stop being an irritating little brat. Noley calls her a "big ol' donkey." Casey calls her a talking monkey. Noley kicks her, Casey chases her, and I'm left alone; but not for long. Frank sees that I'm available, but I turn him down when I spot Mama. Poor guy.

I approach Mama quickly. She's off a little ways by herself and she does look a little sad. And honestly, I kinda noticed before Casey said anything to me.

Once I'm standing in front of her, she does nothing. It's like she doesn't even notice me. She's just staring at te cover of some old book.

"Hey, watcha got there?" I ask softly; but I still manage to startle her. She jumps, puts both hands and the book against her heart and tells me that I startled her. I expect a smile after that, but she doesn't give me one.

"Are you ok Mom?" I ask her. It's a struggle for me. I've been calling her Mom for a week straight now and it still doesn't sound natural coming from my mouth. There are times when I actually stutter to get out the right word. I miss calling her Mama, more than all the other things I gave up as a result of the promise I made to myself.

She misses it as well. I can tell. She sort of flinches every time I call her Mom. It's not a big flinch, just this subtle squint of her eyes.

I clear my throat and point at the book. "So what's that?"

She frowns at me before looking down at the book and saying, "oh, this." I guess she forgot she was holding it.

"Jeremiah just gave it to me. He thought I would like it. It's uh Lana's old diary," she answers while holding it out for me.

I shake my head, "I don't think I'm up to reading another one of those back in the day diaries, Ma-Mom." Crap! I did it again.

She gives me another flinch before smiling and saying, "No, I don't suppose you would want to read it. I'm gonna go put it up in my room." She turns a little, about to leave, but I don't want her to go. I snatch the book out of her hands and zip it upstairs. When I come back, she looks at her empty hands then up at me expectantly.

"I put it in your room for you," I explain.

She raises her eyebrows at me before telling me thank you. But the thank you sounds more like a question.

I take a deep breath and tell her that I miss her. She doesn't give me the "I'm right here how could you miss me" look. The tears welling up in her eyes lets me know that she knows exactly what I'm talking about.

She pulls me into a hug and tells me that she misses me to. I just know I'm gonna start crying soon, so I tell her that I really am ok and that I love her before I get all choked up. It's too late for her. She can barely get the "I love you too" out.

I hold on to her until she's able to talk again, then I pull back so that I can ask her a _very _important question.

"Do you want to dance with me, Mama?"

She gives me the biggest smile I've ever seen her give in my life before saying, "Of course I do, baby."

~The End~

**A/N: **I'm so sorry this took forever. My computer broke and I had to get a new one. It was a very traumatizing experience. One I hope to never go through again. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter as well as the series; and thank you for all of your support and reviews


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